


Alaska to Florida—The Long Journey of Finding Yourself

by velocitygrass



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Casual Sex, Developing Relationship, Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-27
Updated: 2011-05-27
Packaged: 2019-12-18 11:15:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18248723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velocitygrass/pseuds/velocitygrass
Summary: After leaving the Air Force, John doesn't really know what to do with his life. Coincidence leads him to Fairbanks, Alaska, and a job as a night radio host. When Rodney calls in to complain, it marks the beginning of a journey that takes John to Florida and to the realization that he's been looking in the wrong place when trying to decide what his future will be.





	Alaska to Florida—The Long Journey of Finding Yourself

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to springwoof and sherry57 for their helpful corrections and suggestions!
> 
> This was part of the Hewligan Big Bang.

Life is good.

John doesn't really know where he's going, but that doesn't prevent him from enjoying the ride. Metaphorically speaking. Literally, he does know where he's going: across the United States from Washington, D.C., to Fairbanks, Alaska. Actually, it's not even in Fairbanks directly, but he still has four thousand miles ahead of him before he'll have to get out the more detailed directions on where to hand over the Camaro.

It's an LT4 30th anniversary SS coupe, and when John saw the ad looking for someone responsible to drive it up to Alaska, he couldn't resist. He's always wanted to drive across the country, and while this isn't the route he would have otherwise chosen, it will be sweet to take this baby to its owner's new home.

He has no idea what he'll do once he's there. But that's part of the charm. There's no longer anyone telling him what to do. He could resent the Air Force for kicking him out, but he chooses to focus on the bright side. They let him have an honorable discharge, and he's finally free to go where he wants, do what he wants, and sleep with whom he wants.

He's had sex with five guys in the four nights after leaving Andrews AFB. It was fun and a nice fuck you to his previous employer, but in all honesty, he thinks that he'll probably enjoy this trip to Alaska in this beautiful car a whole lot more than screwing those random guys. What matters most, though, is that from now on, he can if he wants to.

Five days is an ambitious timeframe to get to Alaska, but John is confident he can make it without any damage to the Camaro. He has armed himself with all the Johnny Cash albums that he could get his hands on and other random music. Otherwise, he's only bringing his duffel bag and a large suitcase, which contains all that he needs to settle down. He has a few things in storage somewhere, but they've been there for ages and will keep for longer.

It's a long trip, but John enjoys seeing the changes in his surroundings and feeling the stretch of the road ahead of him. Even better is the distance that he's not just putting between himself and Washington, D.C., but between himself and his past. He doesn't know yet what the future holds for him, but by the time he enters Alaska, he's ready for whatever is coming.

~~

"This is Jim Roberts, and before I sign off for tonight, I want to give a welcome to the new guy for the night shift. From eleven to five the new guy at KBRT Fairbanks will be John Sheppard, who hails from the lower 48. But we won't hold that against him, right folks?"

John smiles awkwardly at Jim as he starts a country-rock song and leaves the desk to make space for John.

"You're all set?" Jim asks him.

"Yeah, sure," John says, sitting down at the desk. "Mr. Philipps showed me how it all works."

"Great. I'd get a glass of water if I were you," Jim tells him.

"Right," John says, "that's a, uh, good idea."

Jim smiles understandingly at him. "You'll be okay. Not many callers in your shift. Though you'll also get the weirdos, so make sure to talk to them before letting them on the air."

"I will, thanks," John says, smiling awkwardly.

Jim nods, then gathers his things together. "I'll see you tomorrow," he says.

"Yeah, good night," John says.

"You've got one minute," Jim reminds him, then leaves John alone.

John's not quite sure what drove him to take this job. It's not paying very well. It's the night shift. And he has to entertain strangers for six hours every night. But on the other hand, the station manager fully approves of his love for Johnny Cash, and the worst thing that can happen is that he's fired before his first shift ends. Then he'd be exactly where he was before, so with nothing to lose it wasn't so hard to say yes.

The equipment on his desk informs him that he has ten seconds until he's on, so he quickly sits down and tries to think of what to say. It seems like ages since he's actually listened to a radio station with a live presenter. He tries to think of what he remembers from TV shows or movies. This can't be so hard.

"Hello, everyone. This is John Sheppard, and you're listening to KBRT Fairbanks, your 24-hour call-in station with the music you want to listen to. To that end, I'd like to start my first shift with the Man in Black. The year is 1958. This is Johnny Cash, Ballad of a Teenage Queen."

Phew. That wasn't so bad. He gets up to get a glass of water as Jim recommended. A beeping sound makes him turn around, and he rushes to the desk when he realizes it's the phone. His first audience member to call in.

"KBRT Fairbanks, John Sheppard speaking," John answers.

"I hope you're not turning this into an Oldie station," the woman on the other end says without preamble. She sounds relatively young.

"I wasn't planning to," John says after a second.

"Good," the woman says.

"Hey, is there something in particular I can play for you?" John asks. Mr. Philipps told him that being able to call in is one of the big draws for people to tune in. He can 'connect' with his audience.

"Uh. Smashing Pumpkins, Tonight, Tonight," she says after a moment.

"Coming right up," John says easily.

"Sarah," the woman says.

"Coming right up, Sarah," John says, smiling. He types in the song and artist. "Can I mention your name on air?"

"Yeah, go ahead," she says. "Good luck with the show," she adds.

"Thanks. And thanks for calling," John says.

"Bye," Sarah says and hangs up.

Johnny Cash is finishing the story of the teenage star who returns to her sweetheart, and John takes over, "We're back and will move a few decades ahead. Sarah called in and requested Tonight, Tonight by the Smashing Pumpkins. If there's anything _you'd_ like to hear, give me a call at 907-555-0187."

Things go well for the next hours. People call in to request songs. He lets a few on the air when they have a story to tell or want to greet someone. There are no weirdos, and John's able to complete his shift, closing it with Ring of Fire.

The morning shift is a quiet guy named Richard, who welcomes him and tells him he did a good job. John thanks him and stays just long enough to find out that as soon as he's on the air, Richard gets loud and chatty. John shakes his head at the difference and walks out into the dark. The sun won't come up for another two hours.

He's walking towards his nearly empty apartment when his cell phone rings.

"Sheppard," he answers.

"Ah, John, I listened to the show. Good job," the station manager, Mr. Philipps, says.

John gets the feeling he has more to say than that. He still says, "Thanks."

"Yes. You know, taking requests is great, but if you do that every night, you'll get the same kinds of songs from the same people and as you can imagine that'll get boring. So I think it would be good if you only do this once in a while."

"Yeah, okay. I understand. I'll do a regular show tomorrow," John assures him.

"Good, good. Tomorrow then. Great job, John."

"Thanks, Mr. Philipps."

They hang up, and John thinks that overall he didn't do too bad on his first night. It's not what he wants to do for the rest of his life, but maybe he'll do it long enough to upgrade from his camping mattress to an actual bed.

~~

The second night is a bit awkward as John struggles to find a topic to talk about between songs. He settles on just telling his impressions of Alaska since he came here and people call in to either correct him or tell their own stories of how they first came here or to give him tips on what to check out.

It turns out to be a pretty good show, and when Mr. Philipps calls that morning, he congratulates John and tells him, "Keep it up."

John gets into a routine. He gets up at around noon and has breakfast. Then he goes out, visiting places in Fairbanks or the surrounding area and looking for little things he might want to have for his apartment. He only buys things that are either small or very cheap, since he'll have to get rid of them when he leaves Alaska or take them with him. One of the first things he buys is a cheap car, even though he's not yet sure if he'll want to _drive_ back once he knows where to go or if he'll fly. Of course, that also depends on where he'll be going.

Either way, he needs a car to transport the bed that he buys the second week in Alaska, and it also makes it easier to get around. He makes a trip down to Anchorage on his first weekend off.

He has lunch around dinner time, then either watches TV or reads and tries to think of topics for his show. He finds a book with obscure facts one day and brings it to work from then on, which helps him fill the moments when he doesn't find anything interesting to say and nobody calls with an interesting story.

There are apparently quite a few people awake in the middle of the night. At least he always gets a few calls every night. He has some repeat callers, like Sarah or George, who are both also working night shifts. He's also gotten a few weird calls from people who were high or drunk or just a bit out there, and there was one pervert who only groaned into the phone. John wasn't sure if he'd gotten the wrong number, but since he hadn't hung up, maybe he was just a very passionate fan. Though he hasn't called again.

It's at around three am at the end of September when John picks up the phone, greeting the caller with, "KBRT Fairbanks, John Sheppard speaking," as he always does.

"I hope you're aware that your cute little 'did you know' segment on pulsars just now is such a gross simplification of astronomy that I don't even know where to begin," the caller says without preamble.

John is used to all kinds of people calling in. Some jump right in, just giving him a quick heads up on something, others seem to want to tell their life story before getting to the point. So this isn't completely unusual. What _is_ unusual is that the guy seems pretty worked up about a little throwaway line John used to fill the pause between songs. "Yes," he simply says.

"Oh," the answer comes, slightly surprised. "Well, that's good because it is," the man continues.

"Yeah, I hope you understand this isn't really the correct forum to get into rotation cycles of neutron stars."

The man on the end of the line splutters. After a moment he demands, "Who _are_ you?"

"John Sheppard. Who are you?" John asks. He likes it better when he can put a name to a voice. Especially if it's an intriguing one that can jump from outrage, to awkwardness, to suspicious curiosity within three sentences.

"I'm _Dr._ Rodney McKay," the guy answers, and John immediately pictures his office, walls plastered with his accolades. Or maybe it would be his bedroom so that he can see it first thing in the morning and last at night.

"Okay, Doc. Do you want to give the audience a more in-depth explanation of pulsars? I could put you on after the song," John offers. He'd like to see the guy try.

"No, thank you. I've managed to avoid teaching so far and will be happy to continue to do so."

"Do you want me to publicly apologize then?" John asks, amused, because there's little else he can do.

"Don't be dense. Of course not," McKay says. "I just...well, I've been listening to your little tidbits for the last three weeks, and while I'm sure there were other things that were questionable 'facts' at best, I couldn't in good conscience let this go without at least calling."

John waits for a moment, then he says deadpan, "So you're a fan," just to hear McKay's reaction.

"What?! I happen to be working at night, and just because all the other stations are even more—"

"Hang on. Just give me a moment, I'll have to introduce the next song," John interrupts McKay and puts him on hold. "Okay, guys, we've still got two hours ahead of us, so let's make sure nobody's falling asleep. I know George is gonna like this: Born To Be Wild." He starts the song, then puts McKay back on. "Hey, Doc. Still there?"

"Yes, I am. I'll have you know that the only reason I listen to you is that I like to hear an actual live human voice every now and then while I work. The news is too distracting and there's not a whole lot else I can do in the middle of the night."

"There are certain hotlines, but I guess that would fall under the distraction problem too," John jokes.

"That and fake grunting is not my idea of another human being, plus I don't have to pay per minute to listen to you. So this has nothing to do with you. I listened to the idiot who had this timeslot before you too, so don't let it go to your pretty head."

John blinks. "You think I'm pretty? How do you even know what I look like?"

McKay pauses. "Is that all you got from what I just said? I just told you it's not about _you_."

"You break my heart," John says, making a mock pout, even though McKay can't see it. Though it seems to come through in his voice.

"You are...I don't even know what you are. Rotation cycles," McKay mumbles.

"You're not alone on that, Doc. Many people don't know what to make of me. Don't let it mess up your head, which may or may not be pretty," John teases. He still wonders why McKay used that phrase in particular.

"Oh, haha. I consider myself good-looking, even if I don't have _rakish_ hair like _some_ people," McKay says.

"Rakish?" John touches the spikes on his head. "Seriously, though, have we run into each other at some point?"

"Are you joking?" McKay asks.

"No," John says. He has no idea how McKay would know what he looks like. "There's not a secret web cam installed, is there?" he asks, looking around the studio, in case he missed something really obvious.

"If there is, I don't know where the feed's going to. There's a photo of you on the studio website right next to the phone number. How can you not know that?" McKay finally says.

"Oh," John says. "I've never checked out the station website. It's been ages since I've been on the internet."

"Seriously? Don't tell me you actually know all those useless little 'facts'"—John can _hear_ the quotes around that—"by heart," McKay asks, sounding horrified by the possibility.

"I've got a book," John says. "They're those things made of paper with many words in them. You can carry them around with you."

"And you're a comedian too," McKay says.

"All that and so much more," John says with feeling. There's something about McKay. Even though he's not showing it, John thinks he made quite an impression on him and that that is an unusual thing to happen to McKay. It pleases John.

"Well, I should probably leave you to it. I've got actual _work_ to do," McKay says dismissively.

John sits up straight. He kind of doesn't want McKay to hang up, but the song is about to end, plus he can't just block the phone all night. "Hey, can I play a song for you?" he offers.

McKay doesn't say anything for a long moment. John isn't sure if he's gearing up for another tirade, but in the end McKay says, "Play your favorite song for me."

McKay's voice is almost soft when he says it. Something twists in John's gut. "I, uh, yes, I'll do that," he stammers out. "At the end of the shift though," he adds, pulling himself together. He's starting and ending each of his shifts with Johnny Cash. It has become his thing and people have gotten used to it and are calling in to make suggestion or just to guess what it will be. But twice a night is enough, so he doesn't play Johnny during the rest of his shift.

"Oh, of course," McKay says, sighing in exasperation. "So what is it? Ring of Fire? You ended your first show with that."

John is touched that McKay remembers that. "You'll have to wait and see," he says with a teasing note in his voice.

McKay snorts. "I will. Goodnight. Or morning. I'm not quite sure at which point morning is more appropriate."

"The end of my shift," John says without hesitation. He's actually thought about that quite a bit since he started this job. "And good morning doesn't really work when you say goodbye to someone."

"I suppose," McKay says. "A good rest of your shift then. I'll be waiting for your favorite."

"Okay. Goodnight, Doc. Call me again some time," John can't help adding.

"We'll see," McKay says and hangs up.

John smiles to himself.

Then he hears the beep of an incoming call. It's George thanking him for Steppenwolf and thinking of him. They chat for a bit, and John goes on with his show. Every now and then he thinks about what he'll say at the end that will make sure McKay calls again.

A few minutes to five, John signs off for the night. "This is for a man who likes to hear the voice of another human being at night. You're not alone out there, Doc." He doesn't introduce the song, just lets the first strings of Solitary Man fill the studio and his mind.

He's never played it before on his show. He's not quite sure why. Maybe he didn't want to indulge himself too much. Or maybe he didn't want to give that much of himself away. Either way, for McKay he's willing to do this. It's not as if anyone else will know that it's his favorite song.

John wonders what McKay's reading into this. Maybe he'll call tomorrow to tell John.

~~

McKay doesn't call the next day, and John finds himself disappointed by that. He's not even sure why. He's got other people to talk to. But neither Sarah, nor George, nor the others that call give him the exciting feeling of not knowing whether the next time they open their mouth it will be an insult or an involuntary compliment. Plus, it's so easy to get a rise out of him, when very clearly McKay seems to think he's above that.

He closes the show with Come in Stranger, and says on a whim, "This is for everyone who needs to hear a voice in the night. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

When John gets up the next day, he can't stop thinking about whether McKay will call later that night. He even goes to an internet café to check out the photo of him they put up. Mr. Philipps asked him to supply a photo with his data, but John didn't know it would be published, so it was just a boring headshot. John doesn't really like his picture taken and quite often it shows.

He also tries to search for McKay and finds a few publications, but there's nothing about what he's doing up here in Alaska. He's an astrophysicist, which isn't surprising. John can't find a photo of him. Really, it's kind of ridiculous that he's even looking. Just because McKay has seen a photo of him, doesn't mean he has an advantage or anything.

McKay doesn't call on his next shift either. John tries to quell his disappointment, until at three thirty a.m., he suddenly comes up with a brilliant idea.

"Okay, folks, the studio here doesn't have any windows unfortunately, but some of you might have a view of the stars. When you look out there, really look, it makes you realize how fleeting our existence here on Earth is. Life has changed so much in the last hundred years and even more in the last _thousand_ years, but I bet even back then people looked up at the sky and thought the same thing that we think today. I'll let you ponder that, and after Peter Schilling's Major Tom, I'll let you know if White Dwarfs have nebulae shaped like pointy hats."

He starts the song, then sits back and waits for McKay to call. It takes three seconds. "KBRT Fairbanks, John Sheppard speaking."

"That was an absolutely pathetic cry for attention. Pointy hats? Really?" McKay says by way of greeting.

"Hey, Doc. Good to hear you," John says, grinning.

"To say nothing of the implication that the sky looked exactly the same a thousand years ago, which, I'm sure you're aware, couldn't be further from the truth, unless you think of the sky as nothing but a large black thing above our roofs with lots of shiny lights," McKay continues without pause.

"Isn't that what it is?" John asks innocently.

"I wish a black hole would swallow you right this second," McKay says, sounding pained.

"Now, Doc, that's not very nice of you. I bet spaghettification hurts."

McKay gasps. "Okay, how the hell does a guy like you end up doing the night shift on a radio station in _Alaska_?"

"I was in the record store when the manager of the station came in to ask if he could place a call for applications in the window," John tells him truthfully. "You never told me what _you're_ doing up here."

"I'm doing a detailed analysis of the celestial sphere," McKay says.

"Ah, checking out the Northern Lights," John says.

"Well, yes. I did observe aurorae borealis, but the main focus is obviously a more general observation," McKay corrects him.

"What do you hope to find?" John asks.

"Not little gray men, nor pointy hats, if that's what you're thinking."

"Ah," John says, "You're not answering my question. So is it a secret or just boring?"

McKay hesitates for a moment. "Honestly, both. The company I worked for made an absolutely inadequate offer to keep me there, so I left. An old colleague had this little sidejob, and I thought it would give me the time to properly evaluate which option I'd like to pursue next."

"That sounds very familiar," John says.

"Ha! I knew you had a real job somewhere. So what do you do?" McKay asks.

"The eleven to five night shift at—"

"KBRT Fairbanks," McKay finishes with him, annoyed. "You never published anything, so it wasn't academia. And I haven't been able to find anything else either that obviously points to you."

"What did you do? Look up my name on the internet?" John asks.

"Of course," McKay says.

John doesn't even know what to say to that. It's kind of flattering that McKay searched for him too, but on the other hand he doesn't really want him to ask about Afghanistan or being a Sheppard of Sheppard Industries. He thought he'd left that behind him on his four thousand mile trip. At least for a while. "Isn't it enough that I entertain you for six hours every night?"

"You were the one that practically begged me to call you," McKay says.

"I did what?" John asks, glad that McKay can't see the flush on his face.

"Yesterday when you dedicated the last song to all those who like to hear a voice at night? And the white dwarf thing, that was really transparent. Not that I'd blame you for wanting me to call. I'm sure the other people who call you aren't half as interesting."

"You've got quite an ego, Doc," John says.

"And I see you don't deny it," McKay says smugly.

John struggles for a right answer to that. Thankfully the song is about to end. "I'll be right back, Doc," he says, putting McKay on hold. He waits out the rest of the song. "All right. To answer the little pop quiz from earlier, white dwarfs don't have nebulae shaped like pointy hats. Or actually, they can—just like clouds can form different kind of shapes—but it's not a requirement. However, planetary nebulae are connected to white stars. After a star grows into a red giant, the outer parts of the star are propelled away from the core to form the planetary nebula, while the core turns into a white dwarf."

John pauses for a moment, letting the image form in his mind. "This is Nirvana, Come As You Are." He starts the song, then takes a deep breath and puts McKay on again. He doesn't say anything for a moment. "Doc?"

There's no answer, and John wonders if McKay hung up on him. "You could call me Rodney," McKay says.

"Rodney," John tries it out. It sounds nice. "So how did I do?"

"Well, first of all, you neglected to mention that not all stars turn into white dwarfs. It depends on the mass—"

"Okay, okay, I get it," John stops him. "The students at Northwestern were lucky you never turned to teaching."

To John's great satisfaction that shuts Rodney up for a moment. "I thought you haven't been on the internet in ages?" he eventually asks. "I must have made quite an impression on you," he adds, sounding pleased.

"Oh, that you did, Doc," John says, trying to make it sound like an insult.

Rodney ignores it. "I need to get back to work. But if I promise to call tomorrow, will you promise not to mention 'pointy hat nebulae' any more?"

John laughs. "Okay. I promise."

"Or any other astronomy or physics puns. There are so many other topics you can simplify beyond recognition. All the so-called soft sciences are fair game as far as I'm concerned. Trivia from around the world is okay too. Though please no jokes about Canadians and Mounties and so forth. That gets old really fast."

"You're Canadian," John concludes, though there might have been the trace of a question left.

"What? You didn't check my CV? What kind of search did you do? Yes, I'm Canadian. And I have _two_ PhDs."

"Hey, hey, don't tell me your whole life story all at once," John jokes.

Rodney huffs. "Goodnight, Sheppard."

"John," John corrects him.

"Fine. _John._ I'll call you tomorrow."

"If you don't, I'll know what to do," John threatens with a smile on his face.

Rodney harrumphs and hangs up.

~~

John is looking forward to Rodney's call all evening. It occurs to him that he might need to get out more and find other stuff to do, but then he reminds himself that this is just temporary so he won't want tie himself to this place.

At one am, Rodney still hasn't called. John frets a bit, thumbing through his book of obscure facts, looking for inspiration on how to best torture Rodney's scientific sensibilities. He stumbles over a list of often-covered songs, and it occurs to him that he doesn't have to use his own words to send Rodney a message. And he doesn't even have to be subtle about it.

Brenda Lee's version of Call Me has hardly started when the phone rings. Rodney must have him on speed dial, which makes John smile.

"KBRT Fairbanks, John Sheppard speaking," John answers.

"Forgot that I called you transparent when you did your pointy hat stunt," Rodney says without preamble. John laughs. Rodney goes on, "Between three and four works better for me, okay?" and hangs up without even letting John answer.

John only snorts and picks up for the next person, who obviously took the song as a general plea for audience participation.

Rodney keeps his promise and calls him at ten past three. "Do you ever say anything else when you pick up?" he asks. "Like say, 'John Sheppard, KBRT Fairbanks'?"

John laughs. "I wouldn't want to confuse callers."

"Oh, yes, I imagine that's a big concern with people who are up at three am on a Thursday night. Friday morning," Rodney adds the last as an afterthought.

"It's still night as far as I'm concerned," John says.

"That's right. The end of your shift is your rule. Personally, I'd say someone calling at four thirty is calling too early and not too late," Rodney says.

"But look at really long nights. They sometimes don't end until five," John says, thinking of the drunks he sometimes sees on the streets on his way home.

"Well, going by that, even eight could be the night before. I think the too late too early point must be somewhere between three and four."

"So which is it now?" John asks.

"For what? Looking at the stars? Calling you? Obviously, exactly the right time," Rodney says.

John has to agree.

~~

They talk every day after that. Rodney calls him shortly after three, and they discuss one of the obscure facts John has mentioned on the show or wants to mention. Sometimes they talk about music. Rodney says that he actually prefers classical music, but that it draws him in too much when he works. KBRT's mix appeals to him because "it doesn't distract you with songs that you haven't heard a million times before, but varies genre and decade of recording enough to not want you to stab yourself after a while".

They also talk about any other topic that either of them can come up with. Rodney likes to talk about himself. That, and the fact that his observation of the sky is semi-secret, tends to keep the conversation away from John's previous occupation at least. And thankfully, John knows enough inconsequential bar or prank stories to tell that he can keep up his quota of personal stories without actually revealing anything of significance to Rodney.

Though he has to be very careful. A mention of a third grade museum trip had Rodney place him near Baltimore, and Rodney immediately associated playing golf with being rich. Rodney really is pretty smart and not shy about letting others know.

John likes him though. He likes his other callers too. George and Sarah are nice people. George is a security guard in his fifties, and Sarah works at a hotel reception desk. But talking to Rodney feels different. From that first call he felt a kinship with Rodney that he doesn't feel with the others, and John finds himself looking forward to Rodney's call every night.

Between three and four is a pretty quiet time for callers, and John tells George and Sarah and the few others that they should best try after four or before three, so that he can talk to Rodney for an hour without feeling too bad about neglecting the rest of his audience. It also allows him to one day pick up the phone and say, "Hey, Rodney," instead of his usual, "KBRT Fairbanks, John Sheppard speaking."

John smiles, waiting for Rodney's response, but there is no answer and John begins to suspect that today of all days a random listener decided to call in at just after three am. He's about to ask who it is, when Rodney says, "Hey, John," in an uncharacteristically quiet voice.

"I wouldn't have thought that a simple greeting could make you shut up for more than ten seconds," John jokes.

There's a moment of silence. "Yes. No. I mean," Rodney stutters out. "Okay, you got me," he finally says. "I didn't expect it. You threw me. Are you happy now?" Rodney says, in a much more familiar annoyed tone.

"Very," John says, grinning. "So what were you going to say? Or did I make you forget that too?"

"Oh please, you can't make me forget anything. I was just rattled for a moment. That moment is over, and I need to inform you that in no way is the Batmobile the best of Batman's utilities."

They like to talk about comics and TV shows too, and John certainly appreciates an earnest discussion about fictional characters, their battles, and their weapons. Rodney has a tendency to take them as seriously as his science, which makes John smile.

Though in all honesty, most things that Rodney says make him smile. Even his whining about the weather is somehow amusing. John's not a big fan of freezing temperatures himself, but it's his choice for the moment so he lives with it. Rodney on the other hand, who also very much _chose_ to work here even if only temporarily, makes an art out of complaining about the low temperatures.

Their temporary status in Alaska is another thing they have in common, and it's sometimes relaxing to talk to Rodney after a native from Fairbanks calls to help him make feel more at home and he doesn't quite dare to tell them that he doesn't really think it will ever be his home. Rodney seems to get that and often brings up one of the ways that they feel like outsiders here after John had such a talk. After nearly two months in Alaska without much contact with neighbors or making new friends, it's Rodney's calls that keep John from ever feeling lonely.

His life still consists of the mundane little everyday tasks, and he talks about those with Rodney too. "I'm running out of soap," he says one day in late October.

"I have an ingenious solution for you: buy some," Rodney answers. "Even with delicate skin, that should be an option."

"It's cold outside," John says, hoping that this will earn him sympathy with Rodney.

"I know. That's why one puts on properly insulating clothes that cover as much of the body as is feasible."

"I don't have many winter clothes. I hadn't planned to stay in Alaska this long," John tells him.

"What?! Are you insane? Winters in Alaska can be _brutal_. How can you have been here for two months and not have bought proper winter attire?" Rodney asks, his outrage obviously outweighing any sympathy he might feel for a fellow sufferer.

"It wasn't so bad in September. And when it got colder I tried to avoid going out unless I had to," John says.

"I believe buying clothes under these conditions would qualify as a have to," Rodney says.

"It would be easier if shops were open when I went to work or came back. I could just step in on my way," John says wistfully.

"There's Thornton's. It's slightly overpriced, but they cover everyday needs and they do have soap, even a hypoallergenic one. And it's open around the clock and not far from the studio. It should be only a small detour on your way home," Rodney informs him.

It's a bit freaky that Rodney even knows his way home, but John mentioned a broken traffic light once and two hours later Rodney called to tell him how long it usually takes for them to fix it and actually named the intersection. So John just asks for directions to Thornton's now, which Rodney gives him. "So you shop there once in a while after work?" John asks, trying to sound casual.

"Yes, I do," Rodney answers, and maybe it's John's imagination, but it sounds a bit like a promise.

Neither of them have ever brought up a face-to-face meeting. John isn't even sure why. Rodney does work a lot, so maybe that's _his_ reason. John himself hasn't really considered it. He sometimes wants to keep talking to Rodney, but there's always tomorrow. He's quite happy talking to Rodney on the phone every day and hasn't felt a burning desire to actually _meet_ him, but now that the opportunity seems to present itself, he can't help feeling curious and even a little thrilled.

He'll finally get to see Rodney, who so far was able to make fun of John's hair or his uncomfortable expression on the headshot, without John being able to retaliate. Although telling Rodney that he probably has no hair at all certainly hit his mark if Rodney's defensive, "I do!" was any indication.

"Okay," John says. He doesn't want to _ask_ for Rodney to come, or even imply that he should. Rodney knows where he'll be just after five am, and if he wants to meet John in person, he'll be there. If not, John will survive and at least have soap.

~~

John likes his job at the station enough not to watch the clock normally, but today he can't wait for his shift to be over. He ends his show with Fair Weather Friends and leaves the studio as soon as Richard comes in.

He's at Thornton's seven minutes past five. The store is small, but the shelves that are filled to overflowing are quite high, and John has to walk past the three short aisles to check the whole store. He tries to quash his disappointment that he's the only customer. It's just after five, and he walked very fast, so maybe Rodney didn't expect him to be here until a quarter past. John takes his time checking out the goods.

The quality and prices are all over the place. He ends up picking a soap that is guaranteed to soften his skin. Not that there's anyone who'd benefit from that. He keeps walking through the aisles, taking his time and trying to keep an eye on the door in an inconspicuous way. He doesn't want the guy at the register to think he wants to rob him.

He gets some other stuff as well, so that he doesn't feel like a complete idiot when he finally goes to pay, but twenty-five minutes past five he begins to suspect that Rodney won't show up.

John can't help feeling disappointed by that, though he knows that he shouldn't be. It's not as if they had a date or anything. Maybe Rodney even works longer than five. It's certainly still dark outside. He'd probably just wanted to do John a favor.

John goes to the cashier and puts down his stuff. The door rings as it opens, and he quickly turns around, heart rate picking up a bit, but it's a young woman. John deflates and turns back to the cashier.

"Looking for someone?" the guy says with a grin.

John has never even seen a picture of Rodney, but he knows his voice inside out. "Damn," he curses himself for falling so easily for Rodney's trick. It's only when Rodney moves around the counter and calls in the real cashier that John takes a good look at him.

He doesn't look like John imagined him, though his imagination was mostly non-specific. He's not bad-looking, but not the kind of guy that makes people turn their heads on the street. He has a peculiar crooked smile and pretty blue eyes. And a nice ass, but John doesn't think about that. He's still mad at Rodney for successfully pulling this stunt on him.

"You were very subtle," Rodney assures him when he joins John at the other side of the counter while the cashier rings up his items.

"So were you," John admits grudgingly. "Hiding in plain sight. Should have expected that."

"No, you shouldn't have. That's what made it so brilliant," Rodney says, self-satisfied smirk covering his face.

"Did I ever tell you you're a portrait of modesty?" John asks, fishing out his wallet to pay.

"As a matter of fact, yes. But unwarranted modesty is just fishing for compliments. I don't see the point."

"No, I guess you wouldn't," John says, picking up the bag with his items.

"Here's your jacket," the cashier tells Rodney, handing him an absolutely garish orange fleece contraption.

"Oh wow," John only says as Rodney takes it.

"What?" Rodney asks, putting it on.

"Does it glow in the dark?" John asks.

Rodney glares at him. "It's warm and easily visible."

"Like a Florida orange, kissed by the sun," John muses, looking at Rodney's jacket. It makes him look like a fuzzy bear that fell into a paint can.

Rodney makes a face. "I'm deathly allergic to citrus, so I'd appreciate if you chose another comparison."

"I'm not sure I can think of something adequate," John says, his eyes still on the jacket. "A goldfish maybe?" he asks, looking up to see Rodney give him a cold look.

Then Rodney's expression suddenly turns smug again. "At least I don't need twenty minutes to buy a bar of soap."

John flushes. He can't think of anything to say in his defense. "I think I've got it. A pumpkin," he says instead.

Rodney glares at him again. "Nice and warm, Sheppard," Rodney says, walking to the door.

John follows him outside, the cold making him shudder. Rodney gives him a superior look. Then he smiles and pipes up, "There's a place around the corner that's open. They have a pretty good breakfast."

"Oh," John says. "I don't really eat anything before I head to bed."

"Well, I _have_ to. I have hypoglycemia and can't go too long without food. You don't have to eat anything. You can just watch me eat if you prefer," Rodney tells him.

John is amused by Rodney's assumption that he'll tag along. "Or I could just go home and sleep," he points out.

Rodney deflates, dropping his gaze. "Of course," he says, swallowing. He looks up at John again, forcing a smile that does nothing to cover the sudden vulnerability in his eyes. "Good night then. Or, since it's after your shift, good morning." He turns, but John takes his arm and stops him. He hasn't meant for Rodney to take what he said as rejection.

"I _could_ ," John says, "but with an offer like yours, who am I to refuse?"

Rodney looks hesitant. "Look, we don't have to..." he trails off.

"No, we don't _have_ to. But I'd _like_ to. We've been talking every day for a month. It's about time we hang out somewhere where I can actually see your face," John offers, smiling gently.

"Okay," Rodney says. He nods and leads them to a bistro a block away.

~~

John's glad that he finally got to meet Rodney. From now on he'll be able to picture his expressive face when they talk and the elaborate hand gestures that he uses for emphasis.

"It's really too bad that I can't have any coffee with this," Rodney says between bites.

"So you're sleeping mornings too?" John asks.

"Yes. Well, after I eat breakfast or whatever you'd call this," Rodney says, gesturing at the plate in front of him, "I sometimes work on a few things to relax, but I'm usually in bed by eight o'clock."

"I sometimes go for a run at six or so, but not in the last few weeks," John says.

"Because it's literally freezing out there," Rodney says.

"Well, yes," John admits.

"A completely unforeseeable turn of events in _Alaska_ ," Rodney says derisively. "How hard can it be to stock up on winter clothing? I'm sure your job at the station isn't paying very well, considering what it is you're doing, but it should enable you to _clothe_ yourself adequately. Not to mention that you probably have quite a bit left over from your days in the military."

John freezes. He's very sure that he's never mentioned the Air Force or anything related to it to Rodney or on the show.

"Unless you had debts, though I find that very hard to believe," Rodney continues.

"How did you know?" John asks stiffly.

"Oh," Rodney says, smiling now. "Well, you mentioned the view on top of clouds a few times in a way that made me believe you're a pilot. And you mentioned that restaurant that heavily implied you've been to the Middle East. You've fired a weapon, but have never talked about hunting, and military is one of the careers where it's not completely unusual to leave at your age. Also, it's one of the careers where you don't just move from one job to the next, but one that requires thinking a bit more thoroughly about new career opportunities."

John is relieved that Rodney hasn't found his complete life story on the internet. He wouldn't know how, but Rodney seems to have impressive skills when it comes to finding things out. And when it comes to putting details together and drawing exactly the right conclusions. "Well done, Sherlock," John says wryly.

"That was hardly special," Rodney says, though he still looks pleased. His expression turns more serious, and he hesitates for a moment before asking, "So why did you leave?"

John is torn. He doesn't really want to talk about his past. That's why he never mentioned the Air Force on his show or when talking to Rodney—or the others for that matter—on the phone. But he feels that something has developed between him and Rodney over the last month. He wouldn't call it a friendship exactly, but still something that makes it feel wrong to tell Rodney it's none of his business.

John decides to tell him the truth, but to be brief, hoping Rodney will get the message that he doesn't want to talk about it. "I went against orders to save someone," he says.

"Oh," Rodney says. "That's...actually, I can see that. I thought maybe..." he trails off, shaking his head.

"You thought what?" John asks, curious suddenly.

"I thought maybe it was Don't Ask Don't Tell," Rodney tells him, slightly nervous as he looks at John.

John blinks. "Okay, what gave _that_ away?" he asks, because the closest he's come to coming out on the show was playing It's Raining Men and that had been _requested_.

Rodney smiles awkwardly. "Nothing, actually. It was just a feeling." After a moment, he looks down at the table, then up again. "And maybe wishful thinking."

Okay, that— John never sees it coming—and he certainly didn't this time—but somehow he's not really surprised. He's never consciously thought about Rodney as anything other than a really interesting, funny guy, whom he likes to talk to. But now that Rodney looks at him with expectant, hopeful blue eyes, John wonders if maybe they've been working towards this from the first time Rodney called him.

Not that it matters. Right now, the past isn't as important as making a decision on the immediate future, because while John might be oblivious at times, he's not naive enough not to take Rodney's statement as an explicit offer.

He hasn't really thought much about the fact that he can openly be with guys now. His main concern as far as his future is concerned is trying to figure out what he wants to do with his life. That his future might include a relationship is more of an afterthought. He's been married to a woman once, and being gay was sadly not necessarily the main reason that didn't work out. He's not good at relationships, but that's hardly what's on the table here.

And sex John can definitely get behind. Or in front of. He's not fussy about positions. Though he remembers that Rodney has a really nice ass.

Rodney is still looking at him, and John fears that his confidence might turn into vulnerability if John doesn't say anything soon, so he leans forward on the table and moves one foot forward and up to Rodney's ankle. "Since we're both heading to bed soon, how about you join me?" he asks, lowering his voice seductively.

Rodney's gaze dips to John's lips, and after a moment, he straightens and shouts, "Check, please!"

~~

After a brisk, silent walk to his apartment, filled with heated glances, John opens the door, and they're all over each other before the door fully closes.

Rodney kisses him like he's gone without for years, and John finds himself as enthusiastic. His encounters before his trip to Alaska had gotten straight to the point and only involved a minimum of kissing. And John likes kissing.

They make their way to John's bedroom, kissing as they go and pushing off shoes and their jackets. Rodney lies down on the bed and pulls John down with him. They keep kissing, and John presses one leg between Rodney's, rubbing himself on Rodney's thigh.

Rodney opens his mouth, deepening the kiss, before pushing his tongue into John's mouth. John groans, hands gripping Rodney's pullover. He pushes his own tongue against Rodney's, feeling the sensation go through his whole body straight to his hardening dick.

Rodney starts to pull on John's shirt impatiently. John moves up and away for a moment, struggling to get the shirt off, as well as the T-shirt he's wearing underneath. Rodney looks up at him, lips shining wetly, hands running up John's newly bare torso. "You're amazing," he breathes, then pulls on John's waistband until John leans down to kiss him again.

Kissing Rodney is amazing. John doesn't think he'll be able to not think about Rodney's mouth on his when he'll call from now on. Not that that would be a bad thing. Rodney runs his hands up and down John's back, and John realizes that he doesn't have any of Rodney's skin to touch so he pushes Rodney's pullover and T-shirt up until he can put his hand on Rodney's warm body.

"Hey, your hands are like ice," Rodney complains.

"Sorry," John mumbles, going back to kiss Rodney.

Rodney takes his hand and pushes it against John's stomach. John shudders. His hands really are a bit cold. He pulls back and breathes on his hands, then rubs them together. Rodney watches him, amused, and shakes his head. Then he uses the opportunity to pull off his pullover and T-shirt, leaving John with the sight of a pale, slightly hairy chest.

Once done, Rodney takes John's hands in his and puts them on his nipples, hissing slightly at the cold. John swallows another apology and instead moves his hands to rub Rodney's nipples with his thumbs.

Rodney moans and moves his hips, though with the way John is kneeling, there's not much friction. John leans forward so that Rodney can rub himself against John's hip and John can capture his mouth in another kiss.

It's hard to keep up the position, so John takes one arm away to lean on it while keeping the other occupied with Rodney's nipples. Rodney's hands find their way to John's fly and start unzipping him.

John sighs in relief, finally freed of his slack's confines. Rodney doesn't hesitate and pushes a hand in John's boxers, encircling his dick. John groans, his arm weakening at the feeling of Rodney's touch. "Naked," he pants. "We should get naked."

"Good idea," Rodney says, pushing at John's boxers. John quickly moves up and off the bed, stripping in record time until he's completely naked. When he's done he helps Rodney, who's started wriggling out of his pants and boxers. John's momentarily distracted by Rodney's hard cock, but manages to pull off the pants and boxers along with Rodney's socks.

Rodney undoes his watch and puts it on the nightstand next to John's, and then John's back on top of him, but this time it's all skin on skin. Rodney's hands land on his ass as he pulls John close, so that their cocks are aligned.

John leans in for another kiss because he really can't get enough of kissing Rodney. They move against each other, dicks pressed together deliciously, but not always the way John needs it. He moves one hand between them, so that he can hold their cocks together properly, and Rodney's hips stutter upwards. John starts to stroke them, loving the feel of his cock against Rodney's, of Rodney's lips on his, of the breathy little moans that Rodney makes.

"Don't. I want," Rodney pants, still pushing against John eagerly. "Fuck me," he finally says.

John groans, tightening his grip on their dicks for a moment, before letting go. "Yeah," he says, moving his head up. Then he suddenly thinks about supplies. He hasn't expected this, nor any other sex. "I don't think I have..." he trails off. Damn. Not that rubbing himself against Rodney until they come won't be nice. But he'd really, really like to fuck Rodney. "Maybe in my duffel bag," he suddenly says, jumping up and off the bed.

He'd bought quite a few condoms and lube for that first week, though he honestly can't say what he's done with his supplies. He's rummaging in the compartments of the bag, hoping to find what he's looking for, when Rodney says, "Hey," from the bed.

John looks up, and Rodney waves some condoms and a tube of lube. John says a silent prayer of thanks and is back on the bed in an instant. "You planned this," John accuses Rodney with a smirk.

"If by planning you mean recognizing an opportunity and preparing accordingly," Rodney defends himself.

"Whatever you want to call it, I'm really glad you did," John says, kissing Rodney deeply again, before taking the condoms and lube from him. "Lie down," John tells him.

Rodney obeys, and John puts the condoms on the nightstand and undoes the tube of lube, squirting some on his fingers. 

"Cold," Rodney says when John enters him with one finger.

"It'll warm," John tells him. Rodney's hot inside. He's moved his legs back and has relaxed enough that John can slide his whole finger in quite easily.

"Come on," Rodney tells him impatiently. "I can take another one."

John only nods and pushes in another finger. Rodney sighs happily and groans when John hits his prostate.

"More," he orders, and John removes his fingers, applies some more lube, and goes back with three fingers.

He can feel Rodney squirming in impatience so he makes short work of stretching him. Finally he removes his fingers and reaches for a condom. His fingers are slippery, and Rodney sits up and takes the pack away from him, saying, "Let me," before ripping it open and freeing the condom.

They look at each other and kiss again, before Rodney takes John's cock in his hand, stroking him slowly a couple of times before rolling the condom over John's rock hard erection.

Rodney moves back down on the bed, pulling John with him by his neck. "Fuck me," he says again, and John only breathes hard and nods, because he really wants that.

He pushes into Rodney in one long thrust, groaning at the tight heat.

Rodney moves up enough to kiss him again, wet and dirty. "Move," he says, lightly slapping John's ass.

John gives him a breathless little laugh, before beginning to withdraw a bit. He starts a slow rhythm, just enjoying what they're doing for a moment. Rodney's lips are wet and red. His face is sweaty and his eyes are wide and blue, except when he closes them when John pushes into him just a bit deeper.

John moves his face down into Rodney's neck to kiss him. Rodney's hands are on his back holding him, and he moves his legs around John, pulling him deeper. "More," he whispers into John's ear.

John picks up the pace, thrusting harder into him.

"God, yes," Rodney moans. He's moving beneath John, trying to meet his thrusts, tightening his legs around John.

He's tight and hot and everywhere around John, and John finds it increasingly hard to keep up the rhythm. The next time he thrusts in, Rodney groans loudly, and they try to keep up the position and pace, and John fucks him _hard_ , as hard as he can, grunting with the effort.

"Harder. Come on. I know you can do it," Rodney goads him on, and John falters and takes a deep breath and slams into Rodney.

"Is...this...hard...enough?" he asks, each word punctuated with a deep thrust.

Rodney's hands move to the headboard, pressing against it, because John's fucking him so hard now that he's moving Rodney forward. There's an unintelligible sound coming from Rodney's mouth, which John takes as a yes.

There's no way that John can keep this up for much longer. He wonders how he can use his hand to jerk Rodney off without losing his balance, when Rodney freezes below him and arches up, come shooting from his cock in long stripes. "John," he groans, and John doesn't manage more than a few thrusts, faltering and eventually jerking as his own climax rolls over him.

He collapses on Rodney. They're both panting hard. Rodney's arms are around him; his legs have fallen apart. John slips out, and he knows that he should remove the condom, but this was amazing and Rodney is comfortable.

"Can't breathe," Rodney wheezes, and John regretfully rolls off of him.

Rodney moves onto his side, kissing John's shoulder and putting an arm over John's chest. John turns to him and leans over to kiss him again. Rodney moves his hand to John's side, stroking him gently, and John revels in every touch as if they'd just started.

"We should probably get cleaned up," Rodney says after they part, pointing at the mess on their stomachs.

John nods. He takes a deep breath and forces himself to sit up and get out of bed. He removes the condom and walks to his bathroom to get rid of it and get a washcloth for Rodney. He's surprised to find Rodney following him. He uses the washcloth to clean Rodney's chest and stomach, then turns him around to wipe away the lube. He quickly cleans himself up and throws the washcloth into the sink.

Rodney gives him a look that John can't quite read, so he leans forward and pulls Rodney in his arms and kisses him again. Wow. He really can't get enough of kissing Rodney. They kiss deeply, slowly, for what feels like an eternity until it slows down enough for them to part, foreheads touching.

John sighs happily, then he yawns. "Sorry," he says. "'m usually in bed by now."

Rodney withdraws and nods. "I should go," he says, turning away.

John catches his hand, making Rodney turn back and look at him. "You could stay," he offers.

Rodney gives him a long look.

"Unless you need to be somewhere," John says. He doesn't want to put any pressure on Rodney. He'd just like to fall asleep in Rodney's arms after the great sex they'd had. But if Rodney's not into that, that's okay. He lets go off Rodney's hand. "You don't have to stay," he says easily, smiling at Rodney.

"If you don't mind," Rodney says carefully.

"I wouldn't _offer_ it if I minded," John says.

Rodney only nods. "I think I'd like the bathroom for a moment in that case," he says awkwardly.

"Sure," John says. On the way out, he kisses Rodney once more.

John walks back into the bedroom, feeling a bit decadent walking around naked, and settles on the bed, waiting for Rodney to return. When he does, he gives John a shy smile, before slipping under the covers next to John.

"Goodnight," John says. He kisses Rodney and notices his fresh breath. "Did you just use my tooth brush?"

"No," Rodney says indignantly. "But I did take some of your toothpaste," he adds sheepishly.

"'s okay," John says, kissing him again. "I bought some today. Along with soap."

Rodney snorts. "You were cute trying to be subtle at Thornton's."

"I'm not cute," John protests.

"No, you're right. It's late. I don't know what I'm talking about," Rodney says.

"That's kind of cute," John says with a smile, moving his hand to Rodney's hip.

"I'm not cute either," Rodney says.

"You are in your fuzzy orange jacket," John insists. "Cheeks rosy from the cold. I just didn't see it."

"I know," Rodney says a bit more subdued.

"I can be clueless about those things," John says, trying to reassure him. He kisses Rodney again, letting it linger.

"Sleep now," Rodney says quietly.

"Uhum," John says, moving one arm around Rodney. "'night."

"Morning," Rodney corrects him.

John only smiles and closes his eyes.

~~

It's nice to wake up next to someone. It's been a while since John woke up next to a guy. He's stayed over night with a few women he fucked while he was in the Air Force, but with guys it must have been before his marriage. Having sex with a guy hasn't been as relaxing as with Rodney for a long time.

Rodney's back is pale. John wonders if he ever goes out in the sun. He's probably an umbrella and sunscreen kind of guy if he goes out at all. John smiles at the thought, moving his arm around Rodney and kissing his back.

Rodney stirs and turns around. "Mornin'," he says, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"It's after noon," John tells him, grinning.

Rodney rolls his eyes. "Too early for this kind of discussion. Please tell me you have coffee?"

John considers lying to him for a moment, just to see his reaction, but takes pity on Rodney. "Yeah."

"Oh, thank god," Rodney says and rolls out of bed.

John sighs. So much for some morning cuddling. He looks at Rodney's broad back and his fantastic ass as Rodney leans down to put on his boxers. Cuddling that could lead to other things...

Rodney turns to him. "The kitchen is?"

John points in the direction, and Rodney is immediately off. "Oh, I hope you don't mind the lack of furniture," John calls after him and gets out of bed.

He puts on his boxers and goes into the bathroom doing a quick job of his morning routine. When he joins Rodney in the kitchen, he's greeted by a reproachful look.

"This is the cheapest coffee machine I have ever set eyes on," Rodney says.

"And here I was thinking the lack of chairs might bother you," John answers. He has a cheap foldable table and a single chair in his kitchen.

"It'll be a moot point if I don't survive the coffee," Rodney says, giving the tiny machine a suspicious look.

"We could head for a real coffee," John suggests.

"Oh, I will," Rodney assures him, "but I still need at least a small dose before braving the outside world."

John gets out two cups and sets them down on the counter, watching in amusement as Rodney eyes the coffee machine anxiously. "That won't make it go any faster," he teases.

Rodney spares him a glare, then the machine stops, and Rodney immediately fills a cup and drinks from it. He makes a face after the first big gulp. "Barely drinkable," he declares his verdict.

"I'm glad you approve," John jokes, filling a cup for himself.

Rodney looks around the kitchen as if noticing it for the first time. "Wow, you've really gotten into the spartanism of the military."

"I don't know how long I'll stay, so I've only bought the bare necessities," John explains.

"Why not rent a furnished place? It's what I did," Rodney says, taking another careful sip.

"It's within walking distance to the studio, and I didn't have a car when I started the job. And it's enough for me," John says.

"I'm the first person to stay overnight?" Rodney asks.

"You're the first person to _visit_ ," John corrects him. "I've not really been going out, meeting people."

Rodney looks thoughtful for a moment. "I don't think either of us is little enough that we could sit on each other's lap to eat."

The image makes John smile, but he agrees, "Probably not."

"Uhm," Rodney says awkwardly.

"We could get breakfast together somewhere," John suggests.

"Yes," Rodney says. "That's a...good idea." He finishes off his coffee and disappears.

John drinks the rest of his own coffee, regretting that they're not staying in. He'd half-hoped for a repeat performance this morning. He would have loved to suck Rodney off, but it doesn't look like that's going to happen.

He puts both empty cups in the sink and follows Rodney into the bedroom. He's already half-dressed and John quickly puts on his own clothes. John has to smile when Rodney picks up his fuzzy orange jacket and puts it on. "It's practical," Rodney says, annoyed.

John only grins and puts on his own jacket, which isn't as thick, but an inconspicuous black that doesn't make him feel like a fashion victim. Rodney harrumphs and is ready to open the door when John pulls him back and kisses him again. For a second, Rodney doesn't react, then he melts into the kiss, putting his arms around John.

Rodney looks dazed when they pull apart, and John smiles smugly. "Still hungry?" he asks, smiling seductively.

He thinks about peeling Rodney out of his orange jacket and taking him to bed again, but Rodney says, slightly regretfully, "Yes. I should really eat something."

Right. Rodney mentioned hypoglycemia the night before. "Okay, let's go," John says, giving Rodney a smile.

As they leave John's apartment, John lets the hand on Rodney's back fall to his side.

~~

Alaska isn't the pinnacle of liberalism, so neither of them initiates a kiss or other overt displays of affection when they have breakfast. Or lunch. They discuss the correct nomenclature for a while, eventually agreeing that it all depends on the definition of the words, which are not fixed as far as either of them can tell.

Rodney tells him about shops for clothes, but John thinks he'll probably take two days off to make a trip down to Anchorage.

They eventually finish eating and each pay for their own meals. Outside of the restaurant, they stand for a moment. John would like to kiss Rodney goodbye, but it doesn't seem appropriate. They're not dating or anything.

"I had a great time tonight," he settles on saying.

"Morning," Rodney corrects him with a smile, then becomes serious. "And yes, so did I. Thank you."

The silence stretches between them, but neither makes a move to leave. It's getting awkward, so John says, "I'll talk to you tonight. Bye."

"Bye," Rodney answers, and they both move closer for a moment, but in the end John only squeezes his arm, and Rodney lifts his hand brushing it against John's arm before they nod at each other and leave in different directions.

John looks back once, seeing the blob of orange walking down the street. He smiles and continues on home.

~~

When Rodney calls that night, it's just like always. They chat about this and that, no mention of the night before.

John's not sure how he feels about that. When he'd taken up Rodney's offer last night, he hadn't really thought beyond, "Yeah, I'd like to fuck him."

Now that he's talking to Rodney again, remembering his mouth when it's red and wet from kisses, the question has become if he wants to see Rodney again. Which is easily answered, because yes, he definitely does, but it's not that simple, and as bad as John is at relationships, he knows enough to know _that_.

A one-night-stand is a one-night-stand. Even if you see the person again, there's mutual acknowledgement that sex won't happen again. But as soon as there's a second night, it's better to be clear on what exactly is happening and that both parties are on the same page.

John's had a few fuck buddies in the Air Force. They'd given each other a helping hand every now and then, maybe a blow job, but that was it. Then he'd had a casual relationship with a guy in college. They'd actually gone on dates and stayed overnight, but there'd never been any expectations or promises. Unlike Paul, whom John doesn't want to think about, and then there was Derek, with whom John had had what he thought was a serious relationship only to find out that it wasn't for Derek.

That experience had taught him a lesson, because over the years he'd come to realize that he wouldn't have minded what had happened with Derek so much if Derek had been upfront with him.

John has made a point of making very clear where he stands with people since then, and he really wants to make sure that he and Rodney are on the same page before anything happens between them again.

It's getting close to four, and John knows Rodney will say goodbye soon, so he says, "You know, I've been thinking that we could meet up again sometime. If you have time." Rodney is quiet, so John goes on. "If you want to, of course. I don't know any people here and it gets boring at times." It sounds awkward.

"No strings attached?" Rodney asks.

"Exactly," John says, relieved.

"Only if you get another chair and a proper coffee machine," Rodney says.

"Deal," John says, smiling.

~~

Rodney is damn picky about which coffee machine will be adequate, but John manages to find one on his trip to Anchorage along with clothes, including a jacket that is _both_ warm _and_ doesn't look like a pumpkin, as John points out to Rodney when they finally meet again.

Rodney checks out the coffee machine before finally letting John kiss him again, and it feels to John like forever even if it's only been a week since they first did this. They exchange blow jobs this time, and Rodney is as enthusiastic as he is talented with his mouth. If John thought talking to him might become difficult before, it gets even worse now.

They still talk on the phone every night, and John sometimes finds himself getting hard, just remembering Rodney's mouth on his dick the morning before, or how he'd ridden John's cock.

Sex with Rodney is pretty damn spectacular, and John masturbates thinking about it on the days that they don't meet.

They don't just have sex together. Usually Rodney stays while they sleep, and they have breakfast together the next morning. They go to see a movie together sometimes and have dinner together every now and then before John's shift and after having sex. But they never meet without having sex.

Until one day Rodney calls him at two am, which in and of itself is unusual enough to make John sit up straight. In addition, Rodney sounds whiney and as if he had a cold. Which is exactly the case, as Rodney informs him.

"I'm not going to go to work today. Just wanted to let you know," Rodney says, sniffing.

"Can I do anything for you?" John asks.

"Unless you've found a miraculous cure against cold, no, I'm afraid not," Rodney says.

"Try to get some rest," John tells him. "And drink enough."

"You sound like my sister," Rodney says disgusted and coughs.

"I'll take that as a compliment," John says.

"It wasn't meant like one," Rodney says and hangs up.

John thinks about Rodney for the rest of his show, especially between three and four when nobody calls him and he misses talking to Rodney to a degree that's a bit shocking. He plays Aretha Franklin's I Say A Little Prayer, dedicating it to everyone's who's feeling a little under the weather, but meaning Rodney of course.

"I'm not dying you know," Rodney says, when John picks up the phone.

"There aren't many songs wishing convalescence from a common cold. Shouldn't you be asleep?" John asks, worried.

"Can't," Rodney says, sounding tired and annoyed.

"When have you last eaten?" John asks.

"I've had some powerbars yesterday," Rodney answers.

"When was that?" John asks.

"Can't remember," Rodney says, which makes John's eyebrows rise. Rodney _always_ keeps track of eating.

"Do you have food at home?" John asks. Before Rodney can answer, he goes on, "I'm going to bring something over after my shift, okay?"

Rodney doesn't say anything for a long moment. Then he says quietly, "You don't have to do this, John."

"I don't have to do a lot of things, but I still do. What would you like?" John asks.

"I'm not really hungry," Rodney says.

"Who keeps telling me that you have to eat?" John asks him.

"Fine," Rodney grumbles. "Something warm. Soup?" he asks. "Or maybe noodles."

"How about some noodle soup? You like Asian," John says.

"I doubt I'll taste much," Rodney says. "You know where I live?"

"Near Eielson AFB," John answers.

"Not directly. It's actually in, uh, North Pole. No jokes, please," Rodney says, quickly giving him the address and directions.

John grins but doesn't say anything. This will be fodder for teasing in the future, however. "I should be there in a bit over an hour. Try to rest."

"Uhum," Rodney only says and hangs up.

~~

North Pole is only a few miles from Fairbanks, and John arrives at Rodney's home twenty past five. Instead of ringing the bell, he knocks on the door, trying not to wake Rodney in case he finally managed to sleep. He's not sure what he'll do if nobody answers.

Late November is not a time to stay outside in Alaska, even though it's only a 'mild' twelve degrees tonight. He contemplates ringing the bell, when there's a noise inside and the door opens.

Rodney shuffles aside, letting John in. He looks like death warmed over, nose red, eyes glassy. He has a blanket wrapped around him. John gives him a sympathetic look, then hands him the container with noodle soup.

"Oh, warm," Rodney says.

John smiles at him. "Where do you want to eat it?"

"Bed," Rodney says, heading in the direction of what John assumes is the bedroom. Rodney's place is designed very open with a large kitchen-dining-living area. It looks quite modern.

John follows Rodney into the bedroom, where Rodney has settled on a large, inviting looking bed. "Do you want something to drink?"

Rodney points at the bottles on his nightstand.

John nods, sitting down on the bed next to Rodney. Rodney opens the soup and takes a spoon full. "Good?" John asks.

Rodney shrugs. "It's okay." Then he adds, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," John says, putting a hand on Rodney's leg. "Can I do anything else other than keeping you fed?" he asks. "Maybe buy groceries?"

"I have canned stuff," Rodney says.

John snorts. He watches Rodney eat the whole container and takes it away from him when he's done. "You should sleep now," he says softly.

Rodney nods, snuggling into the pillow under the cover. "Thanks," he says, then closes his eyes.

John smiles fondly, resisting the urge to kiss his temple. Instead he takes the container into the kitchen to throw it away. There are two dirty cups in the sink which John puts in the dishwasher.

Spotting the water bottles, he carries a full one into the bedroom, carrying two empty ones out, along with a heap of used tissues, which he throws into the trash can.

There's not much more he can do for Rodney. He should probably leave, but it feels weird leaving Rodney alone when he's sick, so instead, John settles down on the couch and dozes off.

~~

"You didn't have to stay," Rodney says the next morning, waking John up.

John blinks. "Yeah, I know," he says, looking up at Rodney, who's standing next to the couch, blanket wrapped around him. "How are you doing?"

"It's day three of a cold. What do you think?" Rodney says testily.

"That you're taking it with your usual grace," John teases him. He sits up, stretching. "Should I make us something for breakfast?" he asks Rodney.

Rodney hesitates, frowning.

"And, yes, I know I don't have to do this," John adds.

Rodney harrumphs, then relents. "Breakfast would be good," he says, sitting down on the couch next to John.

John can't help himself. He pulls a surprised and squirming Rodney close and kisses him on the temple before standing up. "So what do you have?"

"You mean apart from a highly infectious disease?"

"Yes, Rodney," John says patiently.

After having bacon and eggs for breakfast with Rodney, John drives back to Fairbanks to take a shower and change clothes. He buys some mild pain medication that Rodney asked for, as well as food and some cold rub. He drives back with the stuff he bought, as well as a spare set of clothes.

"So what? Are you planning to mother me until I'm better?" Rodney asks when he wakes up and sees the stuff John brought.

"Actually, yes," John admits. "It's not as if I have anything better to do."

"I'm not sure if that's flattering or insulting," Rodney says indignantly.

"A bit of both," John says with a smile.

"You'll go to work, though?" Rodney asks, suspiciously.

"Yes. Unless you're feeling worse," John says, raising an eyebrow in question.

"I'm fine. Well, not fine, obviously, but nothing that requires you to sit next to me and hold my hand."

John takes Rodney's hand. "I would if it made you feel better," he says.

Rodney swallows and pulls his hand away. "Infectious," he mumbles. Then he says, "I need to...go to the bathroom," closing the door behind him.

John makes lunch for them and they spend the evening watching some DVDs that Rodney bought. After dinner, John tucks Rodney into bed, despite Rodney's grumbles and even applies the cold rub to his chest.

It's nice to take care of Rodney, even if he only grudgingly accepts it. John's not sure why Rodney has such a hard time accepting John's help. He doesn't think it's just Rodney's worry that he'll be infected ("And then what?"). But as long as Rodney gives in, John is fine. Rodney's not exactly a people person. But it's one of the things that John likes about him.

At three thirty, Rodney calls to tell him he's awake and if maybe John can bring some chocolate pudding when he comes.

"Any actual _food_ you want with that?" John asks, amused.

"I'll trust you'll find something," Rodney says.

"Try to rest some more. I'll be there in two hours," John says. For emphasis he plays, Mr. Sandman.

Rodney calls him again only to say, "Very funny," and hang up again.

~~

John has slept on Rodney's couch every night and hasn't kissed him since he's come down with his cold, but of course just when Rodney starts feeling better, John notices the scratch in his throat and his nose starts running.

"What did I tell you?" Rodney asks him reproachfully.

"That you're glad I was there to take care of you?" John says hopefully. Rodney _did_ say that. Once.

"I told you you'd get sick if you stayed around me all the time."

"Well, there's nothing I can do to change that now," John says, pouting just a little bit.

"Oh, for god's sake," Rodney says. "I'm going back to work today, but I'll drop by your place tomorrow and bring you some food. Can you drive into Fairbanks or should I take you?"

"I'll manage," John says.

"John," Rodney adds warningly.

"It's a cold, not pneumonia!"

"Well, it's good to know that I'm not the only one who gets pissy when I'm sick," Rodney says.

John drives home and calls in sick. He hates being tired and achy, and the tissues on his nightstand will probably make sure that Rodney never sets foot in the bedroom again. John grumbles to himself, wishing he weren't sick, because he's been looking forward to having sex with Rodney, and now he's not sure when that will happen again, and being holed up in bed just makes him think of sex with Rodney even more.

He tries to jerk off, but his heart isn't in it.

Rodney drops by with lunch that evening. John nearly has a heart attack when he sees the masked figure with gloves enter. "You can't be serious," he says.

"I'm just trying to make sure I won't be infected by you again," Rodney says.

John throws a wad of tissues at him, making him shriek. "Hey, I nearly dropped your chicken soup."

John pouts at him, but takes the offered soup and spoon.

"I'll, uh, head to work now. Is there anything in particular I should bring tomorrow?" Rodney asks.

He looks compassionate enough, not that John can see much of his face. "How about a picture of yourself without that?" John suggests, annoyed.

Even with the mask, John can see that Rodney looks stricken.

"Sorry," he says. "I'm glad you brought me lunch. Thank you."

"You're welcome. It's the least I could do," Rodney says. He shifts on his feet. "I'll be back tomorrow around noon. Call me if you need anything."

John nods and watches Rodney disappear, followed by the click of the door as it closes. John's not really hungry, but forces himself to eat. He kills some time reading, then quickly heats up something for dinner, before heading back to bed.

He doesn't even have a radio, so he can't listen in to who's standing in for him today. He wonders if they started the shift with Johnny Cash.

Rodney calls him at three, asking how he's doing. John's so grateful to hear his voice that he doesn't even complain.

They talk about this and that, and John is suddenly overwhelmed by the need to have Rodney here with him in his bed, in his arms.

"Are you okay?" Rodney asks.

"I...yeah," John says, trying to get a grip on himself. "I should probably try to sleep."

"Yes. And drink. Do you have enough water?"

"I don't think the tap runs out," John says.

"Okay. I'll drop by around noon," Rodney says.

"Miss you," John says, then quickly hangs up before Rodney can say anything.

John doesn't sleep well that night and is up at eleven, taking a shower and putting away the tissues and his worn clothes. He gets back to bed, but on the covers and fully dressed, playing a crappy golf game that came with his cell phone. Rodney comes in at twelve o'clock sharp. John is glad that he gave him his second set of keys, because he might have just shut the door in his masked face.

"It's for the best," Rodney says, when he sees John's glare. "I've brought coffee and some muffins and a few other things. They're in the kitchen." He doesn't even come into the room. "Maybe it's better if I just call you."

John gives him an incredulous look.

"This could go on for weeks. You'll infect me, I'll infect you," Rodney says defensively.

"Just go," John says.

Rodney doesn't look happy, at least from what John can see, but leaves.

John is pretty pissed off, but still goes into the kitchen. There's a big cup of steaming coffee, three giant muffins that he'll never finish, the chest rub John bought for Rodney, some power bars that Rodney likes but John doesn't really care for, a huge package with tissues that are supposed to be soft to your nose, some chewing gum, several cups of instant noodles, and in the center of the table there's a photo of Rodney with a somewhat forced smile.

John doesn't know if he wants to punch or kiss Rodney. He settles on simply eating breakfast, putting away the untouched third muffin after he's done.

Rodney calls him just when he's gone back to bed. "Look, if you need something, just tell me and I'll get it for you," he says without preamble.

I need to kiss you, John thinks but doesn't say. He looks at the photo of Rodney that he's put on his nightstand. "Get me a photo with a real smile," he says.

"I'm not good with having my picture taken," Rodney says. "Which you should understand," he adds.

"You have to think happy thoughts," John says.

"What if I'm not happy?" Rodney asks.

"Think of something that makes you happy. Think about getting the Nobel Prize. No wait, you'll only look smug."

"Haha. I see being sick has no effect on your misguided sense of humor," Rodney says.

"You _like_ my sense of humor," John says smugly.

Rodney is silent for a long moment. "Yeah, I do," he says quietly.

John doesn't know what to say. "I wish I hadn't gotten sick," he says eventually.

"So do I. _Believe me._ I've really been looking forward to...you know."

"Kissing me again?" John says, sighing.

"I was going to say 'fuck,' but yeah, that too," Rodney says.

"You're so romantic," John teases him.

"Well," Rodney says, swallowing audibly. "That's not really what our relationship is about, is it?" he asks.

"No," John says, though it somehow feels wrong to him. "Bringing me chicken soup when I'm sick is kind of romantic though."

Rodney snorts. "I simply want to ensure that you keep up your strength. I don't want this cold to linger forever."

"Yeah, that wouldn't be fun," John agrees. "I might have to agree to gloved sex, and I'm not really into that."

"Hmm," Rodney says.

"What?" John asks.

"I've been wondering. We can't have sex without the danger of infection at the moment, but we can talk on the phone..." Rodney says.

"Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting," John asks, feeling his dick perk up.

"What are you wearing?" Rodney asks in an overly breathy voice.

John laughs.

~~

John isn't pissed off anymore after that. What Rodney lacks in hands-on support, he more than makes up for in dirty talk over the phone. They have phone sex twice that day before Rodney goes to work, then once more before they go to bed.

John sleeps like a baby. Apart from the phone sex, Rodney still does come over, mask always firmly in place, but John is willing to forgive him, because he knows Rodney feels really bad about it.

Rodney brings him food and comics and books and even does his laundry.

As far as being sick goes, John hasn't been this pampered since he was a child. On his fifth day of being sick, the door bell rings. He wonders if Rodney forgot his copy of the keys, but when John opens the door, it's the landlord.

"Oh. Hey, Mr. Lewis," John says, turning away to cough. He has no idea what Lewis wants. He's always paid his rent on time, didn't throw any parties, or did anything else someone could possibly object to.

"I got complaints," Lewis says, eyes shifting into the apartment then back to John.

"About what?" John asks.

"Let's just say, this is not San Francisco or whatever it is you're from. I want you out by the end of the week," Lewis says, slapping a piece of paper in John's hand. "And make sure that you get your _boyfriend's_ set of keys as well."

John only stares at him open-mouthed.

~~

He's still sitting in one of the kitchen chairs, eviction notice in his hands, when Rodney comes over with lunch.

"John?" he calls from the bedroom. John hears the door to the bathroom open and close, then Rodney says behind him, "Oh, here you are. What's—John?"

John turns to him and wordlessly hands him the notice.

Rodney reads it, gloves in place, frown getting more pronounced by the second. "They're kicking you out? Did you forget to pay your rent? Do you need me to drive to the bank?"

"Only if the bank can make me straight enough for their liking," John says.

Rodney's eyes widen. "You can't be serious."

John only gives him a look.

"Bastards. How can they do that?"

John only points at the notice in Rodney's hands.

"Sometimes I hate your country," Rodney only says.

John looks at the table. In this moment, he's really glad that he didn't leave the Air Force because of his sexual orientation. He might go just a bit hysterical.

Rodney slams the notice down on the table. "Okay. You eat something," he orders, putting a bag on the table. "I'll go and organize a moving van for the end of the week. I don't think there's place for the bed though. Do you want to sell it or put it in storage?"

John stares at him.

"It doesn't have to be forever," Rodney says defensively. "But you're still sick and it's December. If you find another place that's great. I can help you move there. But if it doesn't work out, you can stay at my place until you find something."

"Rodney," John says, not knowing how to continue.

"I don't have to do this, I know," Rodney says gruffly.

"That's not what I meant to say," John says.

"I _do_ have to do this?" Rodney asks.

John gives him a look. "I...thank you," John says.

Rodney only nods and points at the bag before turning and leaving.

~~

John doesn't find a room. His cold insists on lasting nine days instead of the usual seven, which gives him just enough time to pack before the moving people arrive. He's decided to give away the bed for free, and a young couple picks it up, smiling and grateful, and happy for John and Rodney when they learn they're moving in together. Neither John nor Rodney choose to tell them that it's not exactly like that.

Rodney's not wearing a mask anymore around John, but he's still not touching John and certainly not kissing him and insists on taking the couch for the first two nights in Rodney's home.

John looks up apartment offers, preferably furnished, but he makes the mistake of taking Rodney with him when he goes to check them out. Rodney is appalled by the first room they take a look at and complains that the other one is on the western part of Fairbanks, even beyond the airport, making the drive from Rodney's place almost twice as long as before.

"You know it's not going to be easy to find a place that's furnished, not too expensive, not too far, and not too whatever the other apartment was," John comments.

Rodney crosses his arms in front of him, which doesn't look very commanding in his orange fleece jacket. "It's not like you're in a hurry," he says.

"I don't want to be a burden," John says. Rodney's been very generous in his offer, and even though it sometimes feels as if they've known each other forever, it's only been two and a half months since Rodney first called him. The fact that they're having sex—well, will be having sex again hopefully soon—doesn't mean that Rodney owes him a roof over his head.

"You're not. You clean up after yourself and...that's really all I could ask for. Unless you've been doing some unspeakable things in my home while I was lying sick in bed."

"No, I think they were all speakable," John says, one corner of his mouth curving up.

Rodney sighs. "It's too cold for your jokes. Let's head home and warm up."

They're half-way to North Pole when John thinks of a reason why staying with Rodney indefinitely might turn awkward. "What if you meet someone?" he asks.

"What are you talking about?" Rodney asks, rubbing his hands. He's been bitching about how long the heating takes to kick in.

"You can't exactly take a guy home when I'm there. You don't even have a guest room where I could stay. I mean I'd sleep on the couch, but that would probably be awkward."

"It's not a problem," Rodney says quickly, not looking at John.

"Well, it could be," John says.

"If you want to bring home guys—" Rodney begins, but John immediately interrupts him.

"I _don't_."

"Well, if you do, or if _I_ do," Rodney adds, rolling his eyes, "we'll figure something out. There's the couch or hotels or you could just go to his place."

"I'm not planning on bringing guys home," John repeats.

"Neither am I. Nor women for that matter. Don't worry about it," Rodney says, still not looking at John. He puts his arms around his torso, though the car is finally getting warm.

"Okay," John says.

They're silent for the rest of the trip.

Once back in Rodney's home, John is about to suggest watching some DVDs when Rodney pulls him in his arms and into a heated kiss. John is surprised for a second, before the pent-up desire of the last two weeks kicks in and he gets with the program.

Afterwards he lies with his head on Rodney's chest, feeling the up and down as their breathing slowly returns to normal. "I missed this," he says.

"Me too," Rodney says. "Though the phone sex was nice too."

"It'll be a nice thing to fall back on when one of us gets sick again," John says.

"Don't say that. I missed enough work as it is," Rodney says.

"Everything okay with your 'secret' project?" John asks.

"It's fine. I think I'll have caught up by next week. Thank god nights are really long at the moment."

"I guess it's good for someone cataloging the night sky," John says. It weirds him out a bit that it gets dark just two or three hours after he gets up.

"You're more of a sunshine guy, huh?" Rodney asks, running his hand through John's hair.

"All in moderation," John says. "I'm not sure I'd get into the twenty-plus-hour-days either."

"God, no, I've said from the beginning, I'll only stay here for six months," Rodney says. John feels him suddenly tense. He looks up at Rodney.

"When did you come here?" John asks.

"Mid-August," Rodney says after a moment.

John settles back down on Rodney's chest. That's two more months until Rodney leaves. He closes his eyes and tries not to think about it, enjoying that he's here with Rodney right now.

~~

The next day John takes a look around North Pole for the first time. Rodney has gone to work early again, so John is on his own, walking along Santa Claus Lane, Snowman Lane, and St. Nicholas Drive to the Santa Claus House. He can't resist buying a Santa hat, mostly because he wants to see Rodney bitch about it.

"Oh god," Rodney says predictably when he returns home at half-past five the next morning. "Please tell me this was a gift from the station, and you couldn't get rid of it without being caught."

"I went out before work today," John says, grinning.

"What on earth do you need a Santa hat for?" Rodney asks.

"This is the North Pole. It's fun," John says, putting the hat on.

"Give me that," Rodney says, pulling the hat off and throwing it on the couch disgusted. "And this might be North Pole, but it's not _the_ North Pole, as you very well know."

"But it's the home of Santa," John says, all wide-eyed innocence. It's so much fun to rile Rodney up.

"You know. This is beginning to be really disturbing," Rodney says.

John laughs. "So you're a guy who hates Christmas, living in North Pole."

"I didn't say I _hate_ Christmas. I like getting presents. But that's one day a year, whereas around here, it's a 365 days a year kind of deal. If you want to celebrate with your family, fine, do that, but leave me in peace for the rest of the year."

"Moose Creek might have been a better choice to live in then," John points out.

"I never would have though of that," Rodney says dryly. "And it's not as if you can escape it outside of North Pole. They insist on throwing a Christmas party at my lab at the end of the week—four days before winter solstice. Can you believe it?"

"A Christmas party the week before Christmas? Whatever were they thinking?" John says, feigning shock.

Rodney glares at him. "There was stuff I wanted to get done before the solstice."

"And I'm sure you'll still manage," John says. "How big is this party? I thought you worked pretty much alone at your lab?"

"I do at night. There's other people during the day and the other labs. But yes, it's not as if I even know these people, so why should I care about meeting their wives or husbands or whatever."

"Oh, you can bring someone?" John asks.

"Uh, yes," Rodney says, frowning. "Would you...do you want to come?" he asks.

John has been curious about Rodney's job, even though he knows that Rodney can't tell anything, so he never asked. But this might be a chance to get a glimpse into where Rodney disappears to every night. "Why not?" John says.

Rodney seems surprised. "Uhm. I didn't think you'd...if I'd known you were interested, I would have told you, of course."

"It's okay," John says easily, smiling at Rodney.

"There'll be some people from Eielson there," Rodney adds carefully.

"And?" John asks.

"Nothing. I just thought since you don't like to talk about your time at the Air Force..."

"I'll be okay," John says. He's made a choice and is willing to live with it.

~~

Later that day, after breakfast, John puts on the dress uniform that's been sitting in his large suitcase since his trip to Alaska. He never bothered to unpack it, because he knew he wouldn't need it. He looks at himself in the mirror. It's a weird feeling because that's not really him anymore, but still, part of him will always remain a member of the Air Force.

He hears a gasp behind him and turns to find Rodney staring at him. "Don't worry. I'm not going to wear it to the party."

"Uh," Rodney says, still staring at the uniform.

John realizes it's not a bad stare. He grins. "Actually, I'm not allowed to wear it to a party."

Rodney makes an unintelligible sound, eyes still fixed below John's head.

John approaches him, swaying his hips just a bit, only to see Rodney gulp. "It's, uhm," he says, gesturing towards John.

"My dress uniform," John says, amused by how much Rodney obviously likes it. He's been complimented for how he looks in his dress uniform before, but never like this. Then again, he's never modeled it for someone he's sleeping with. "Though you could make it my _undress_ uniform," he says, deepening his voice.

Rodney is so impressed by the uniform that he doesn't even comment on John's bad pun. Instead he reaches out and runs his hands up John's chest to his shoulders. He looks at John with hooded eyes and parted lips, before suddenly pulling John into a pretty aggressive kiss.

"I want to," Rodney begins when they part to take a breath.

"Yeah?" John encourages him.

"I want to undo your tie and your shirt. And I want you to ride me, fuck yourself on me while you still wear it," Rodney says.

The image shoots straight to John's dick. He swallows. "It might be difficult in pants," he says.

"I can compromise on the pants," Rodney says, kissing him again and stroking John's dick through said pants before beginning to open the fly.

~~

The party actually takes place in the cafeteria, and the labs are sadly off limits.

Rodney is clearly frustrated that he can't go to work yet, and it's not helped by the fact that he only knows a few of the people here. After the third time someone asks how he's related to the labs, he pencils in "Night shift at Lab 12" under his name.

When he talks to the few people he does know, he only introduces John as "John Sheppard". John is waiting for someone to ask who he is, but so far there were only knowing and politely confused looks. They haven't really discussed how they'd answer the "And you are?" question. Privately John has decided he'll say, "I'm with Rodney," and smile.

After the few introductions to the people Rodney knows, though, Rodney doesn't bother making introductions at all. "That's the purpose of these silly name tags, isn't it?"

One corner of John's mouth tugs up at that, but he doesn't say anything. He thinks most people still make certain assumptions about them. There are a few weird looks and some awkwardness, but nobody is being an asshole—certainly not any more than Rodney is with his usual charm—so John's fine.

The main attraction of the evening is the buffet anyway. It's overwhelming in both quantity and quality. John doesn't think he's seen anything like it since his father organized a party. Come to think of it, it was probably his wedding. He doesn't dwell on it. Rodney's Christmas party is certainly much more relaxing.

Rodney walks along the table, asking the poor attendant every five seconds if something has citrus. John takes a look at the food himself, snagging a bit of anything that he thinks he or Rodney might like.

Whenever Rodney comes to him and sees something on his plate, John moves it onto Rodney's plate before Rodney can even ask where he got it from. The adoring smile it earns him makes John feel a bit fuzzy inside, even if he's not sure if half of that look isn't for the food.

A small cluster from nearby Eielson AFB is standing next to one of the buffet tables. John has pegged them as members of the Armed Forces the moment he stepped into the room. They're husbands—and one wife—of people working at the lab, and John can't help overhearing their conversation as he checks out the salads.

When one of the men mentions the base John's been stationed at in Afghanistan, John listens in. The guy talks about what it was like, the pressures on and off missions, and John can relate. When the guy says, "You really get to appreciate the small things. Like Charlie's cup of coffee," John coughs loudly.

Charlie's cup of coffee was actually a growing collection of pornographic images titled "coffee" and organized in "cups" of different "flavors". Since the focus was on women and straight porn, John hasn't taken an interest, but even he knows about Charlie's cup of coffee, and he's often heard people joke about it wink, wink, nudge, nudge.

The guy turns to John now, frowning. "Do you know Charlie's coffee?"

"Well," John says. "They didn't really have my _flavor_ ," he says, quickly looking over to where Rodney looks bored by someone. "But I heard that it's the best. Certainly on BAF."

The guy smiles at him. "When were you stationed there?" he asks.

John's not sure if he really wants to get into this, but the guy is friendly, the rest of the group looks expectant, and lying would just make them more curious. "I just came back in August, and I've served a tour from 2002 to 2003. When where you there?" he asks, hoping that the guy will just keep talking.

"I might have just missed you. I was there 2003 to early 2004. Air Force."

"Me too," John says, and just like that he's one of the guys.

They talk about their experience in Bagram, and John manages to steer the conversation to flying in general. Rodney joins them at one point, listening closely, though he doesn't ask any questions. John gives him a quick smile.

It's nice to talk about flying. Some in the group look at him in awe and slight envy of what he's flown, but to John it's simply the first time he's even thought about it since his return to the States, and he suddenly realizes how much he's missing it.

"So will you ship back out?" the guy who's also served on BAF asks.

John hesitates. There's not really much he can say but the truth, even if he knows it will probably lead to questions he doesn't want to answer. He still says truthfully, "No."

Before anyone can ask the obvious question of why, Rodney tugs on his arm, "Hey, there's someone I'd like you to meet."

John nods and smiles at the group, who return the favor, and then follows Rodney away.

"Was it okay to...?" Rodney asks once they're out of earshot.

"Yes, thank you," John says, taking Rodney's hand and giving it a quick squeeze.

"It's quite unusual to have flown such a wide range of aircraft, isn't it?" Rodney asks neutrally.

"I was special ops," John says.

Rodney nods, but only says, "Certainly impressed them," with a smirk. He doesn't ask anything more, and John is grateful for that. His ex-wife never liked that he had to keep secrets. It was one of the reasons their marriage failed.

They talk to a few other people and keep going back to the excellent buffet, until John feels full enough to take a seat instead of standing. Rodney joins him with another plateful of goodies.

A young woman, Jenna, sits down opposite of them and starts talking animatedly. She obviously works with Rodney and also lives in North Pole. She was born and raised there, and John feels like he's getting a crash course on the history of the little town.

She's very nice and enthusiastic, so John doesn't mind listening to her. Next to him, Rodney pays more attention to his plate than to Jenna. When she excuses herself for a moment to get another glass of eggnog, John leans over to Rodney and asks, "Who is she?"

"I have no idea," Rodney says.

"What?" John asks, laughing. She certainly talked as if she saw Rodney every day.

"I sometimes see her when I'm here early, and she says hello and starts talking about the weather or her weekend or god knows what. I didn't even know her name until I read her name tag."

John is still chuckling when Jenna returns. She sits down and leans forward, and John expects some juicy piece of gossip. Instead she says, "I don't want to be rude or anything, but can I ask you how long you two have been together?"

John feels Rodney stiffen next to him and quickly decides to answer. "A few months." He looks over to Rodney who swallows, but doesn't look like he minds what John told her. John pushes his leg against Rodney's and gives him a smile. Rodney pushes back.

"Really? You look like you've been together for years," Jenna says. "I mean the food and everything. I've been with my boyfriend for nearly a year and he still wouldn't be able to tell you if I preferred strawberries over cherries. He couldn't be here today, unfortunately."

John smiles sympathetically, though he can't say it's a huge loss for him not to have met him.

"He's working at the Santa Claus House," Jenna continues. "It's crazy this time of year as you can imagine."

John nods, glancing at Rodney, whose attention is still focused on his food.

"At least it's only for now. Rodney's been doing the night shift for...it must have been since you two got together. That must be so hard."

"I work the night shift too, actually," John says.

"Oh, that's great," Jenna says, smiling brightly. "What do you do?"

"I, uhm, I host the eleven to five shift at KBRT," John says, which reminds him to check his watch.

"Really? That's so cool! Oh, you have to go there today?" Jenna asks.

"Yeah, I still have a few minutes till I have to leave, though."

"Well, the party's already winding down, so I don't think you'll miss anything. Some people have already left. Soon it'll just be those trying to drain the bar," Jenna says, turning towards the room.

John scans the dwindling crowd. The ratio of people laughing very loudly, or slurring, or clapping others randomly on their back to sober ones seems to be increasing. One of the guys who's not standing quite steadily is glaring at him.

John frowns. He can't remember having done anything to that guy. He hasn't even talked to him. To John's surprise, the guy starts coming towards them, glare intensifying.

"Oh boy," Jenna says, covering her eyes.

Rodney looks up and rolls his eyes heavenwards. "Oh, wonderful," he says sarcastically.

"Who is that guy?" John whispers, though apparently not quiet enough for the guy not to hear.

"'That guy' is the one who did the job before Dr. Dr. Rodney McKay wandered in to take over," the guy spits out.

Rodney only gives him a pitying look.

"Oh, I know you think you're the smartest man on Earth, but the only thing you're better at than anyone else is your incredible _arrogance_ ," the guy says venomously, getting louder as he speaks. "You treat everyone like shit and still everyone falls all over themselves to help you do _my_ job. And now you come here with a _boyfriend_ in tow, which should be awkward at the very least, but no, he's a gorgeous ex-Air Force pilot who served on the front lines and quotes Bernoulli." He's shouting the last, and by the time he finishes, the whole cafeteria has fallen silent, staring at them.

Rodney only gives him a disdainful look. "Surprisingly, you got one thing right." Then he turns to John and smiles. "You _are_ gorgeous."

John has to laugh. Out of the corner of his eye he sees someone pulling the guy aside. John's gaze is fixed on Rodney, though. He hadn't planned on any overt displays of affection, but their outing rang loud and clear through the room, and right now he really wants to lean forward and kiss Rodney, so he does.

~~

On Christmas, John drives home from his shift, thinking about all the kids that are getting up right about now, running downstairs to see if Santa Claus came.

He and Rodney haven't planned any celebration. John bought a tiny plastic tree that sits at the center of the coffee table, but there'll be no special meal and he's not sure Rodney bought a present for him. John bought him an old military chemical heat pad that Rodney can use when they drive to Fairbanks together or which he can make John use when his feet or hands are too cold. He's wrapped it in camouflage paper.

When he arrives at their home, Rodney is already there—which is rare. He's standing by the kitchen counter and snacking when he sees John. "I should commend you on the lack of Christmas songs during your show today."

John snorts. "It wasn't easy. You wouldn't believe how many people called in to request 'Last Christmas'."

"I think I would," Rodney says, finishing up the sandwich he's made for himself. "So, did you see Santa on the way?"

"I didn't _see_ him, but there was a strange noise above me at some point and suddenly this fell in my car," John says, holding up the package he's carried inside and held behind his back.

"Well, that's quite a feat. It fell _through_ the roof?" Rodney asks, coming closer. He smiles at John and doesn't seem too surprised that John has a gift for him.

"It just appeared," John says, shrugging and then handing the present to Rodney.

"Hmm," Rodney says thoughtfully, turning the package over. "I'm slightly concerned by the camo look of this. Do you think Santa is secretly working for the military?"

"Just open it," John says impatiently.

"How do you even know it's for me?" Rodney asks.

"Rodney," John says, giving him a look.

"Okay, okay. I should say I'm no less concerned by the camo packaging if this is by _you_ rather than Santa," he says, ripping open the gift and reading the instructions on the heat pad. "Oh. It's like...socks, only way cooler."

"You mean _hotter_ ," John says.

"Thank you," Rodney says, pulling John into a long kiss.

"Hmmm," John sighs happily. As far as Christmas mornings go, this is a very nice one.

Rodney moves away, and John watches as he picks up a mid-sized cardboard box from behind the counter. "And just so we're clear. This is from me, not from Santa," Rodney says before pushing the box in John's hands.

John walks to the table, so that he can put the box down and lift the top. Inside is a model air plane. "Wow, Rodney." He gets the plane out, holding it carefully because the amount of detail that went to it puts his little present to shame. "You really didn't have to," he says.

"Which pretty much is the basis of our relationship," Rodney mumbles. John looks up at him, but Rodney quickly smiles and says, "It can fly."

"What? But this is..." John feels the weight of the plane versus its size. It's unlike any model airplane he's ever seen.

"I built it myself," Rodney says.

"You..." John really doesn't know what to say. This is one of the most amazing gifts he ever got. "Show me," he asks Rodney.

Rodney comes over and gently plucks the aircraft from John's hand. To John's surprise, he doesn't go outside, but instead picks up the remote control from the box and gives the plane a shove right there in the living room.

John is amazed by the control when Rodney hands it over for him to try. It's like he can move the plane with an invisible hand. "You should make these for a living," he says in awe.

Rodney snorts. "Hardly. I wanted to buy one, but they were all inadequate, so I figured I'd take nothing but the casing of the main body and manufacture the rest myself."

"How long did you work on this?" John asks.

"Well, I got the idea when I heard you talk about flying at the party," Rodney says.

"You built this in a week," John says, staring at Rodney.

"I did still have to work," Rodney says.

John starts laughing. "This is amazing," he says, letting the plane land on his hand as if pulled on a string. He puts it down and turns to Rodney. " _You_ are amazing," he says, pulling him into a kiss. "Thank you," he adds, deepening the kiss and pushing his tongue into Rodney's mouth.

Rodney pushes his hands under John's pullover and shirt. They begin to make their way to the bedroom, and John can only think that this morning isn't just nice. It's perfect.

~~

A week after New Year, John sees high gloss photos of an amazing beach house on top of the counter where Rodney's apparently gone through some correspondence. He takes a look at the photos only to find a summary of what appears to be the house's description. It's large, modern, and luxuriously furnished. It's also in Florida, specifically Sarasota.

With other people, John would have suspected they're considering renting a beach house for a nice vacation, but that's about the last location he can imagine Rodney choosing. John's curious, but refrains from reading further. He can ask Rodney when he comes home.

Rodney returns from work a bit after John. "So, planning a little holiday on the beach?" John asks cheerfully from where he's been reading on the couch.

"What?" Rodney asks, frowning. Then his gaze falls on the photos. "Oh, that...not a vacation. Quite the opposite," he says, walking past the photos to the fridge to prepare a sandwich.

"The opposite?" John asks, raising an eyebrow. "What? Work? If so, that's an interesting design for an office or a lab."

Rodney gives him a look. "It wouldn't be where I work, obviously. That's just a little incentive."

John sits up straight on the couch. "That's a _little_ incentive." He gets up and walks to the counter to take another look at the photos. "If that's the _little_ incentive, I think I'm afraid to ask what the big one is."

"Indecent amounts of money, of course," Rodney says, taking a bite of his sandwich. He joins John and takes a dismissive look at the photos. "Not that I'm not worth every cent. Or would be if I took their offer."

"Their offer," John repeats. He's tried very hard not to think about the fact that Rodney's project here will be finished in February.

"It's an aerospace engineering company. They would like me to get their next project going. And if that works out for them and for me, I'd lead the project. They offer a suitably generous package which includes accommodation on the beach, not too far from the lab where I'd be working," Rodney tells him matter-of-factly.

"Are you considering taking the offer?" John has to ask. The beach house alone would be a major bonus in his book, but he can see that it wouldn't be for Rodney. It might actually be the opposite, but then there's the actual job which is not only well-paid, but sounds interesting.

"It's _among_ the offers I'm considering," Rodney says somewhat evasively, finishing off his sandwich.

John doesn't want to press the issue. It's none of his business, and he doesn't even know the other offers. Rodney doesn't seem to be inclined to share them with John, which is okay. "Ready to head to bed?" he asks.

"To sleep or to _sleep_?" Rodney asks, smirking at him.

"Both, though not in that order," John answers, grinning.

~~

Rodney does mention the other offers a few days later over breakfast. There's one from the military, which he seems disinclined to take, and two other commercial companies.

"They all sound pretty interesting," John says, trying to be supportive.

Rodney gives him a look. "I appreciate your attempt at neutrality here, but I caught you checking out the photos of the beach house more than once."

"Well, if you leave them open like that," John says, slightly defensively.

"I don't need them for my evaluation of the offer," Rodney says.

John grimaces. That house is _beautiful_. Maybe it's the contrast to Alaska, but he's found himself imagining being at that beach in the last few days.

"Would you seriously let a house decide which job to take?" Rodney asks him.

"Obviously not. And I assume you can rent in the other places, so you'd find a home there too. But all other things being equal..." John trails off.

Rodney shakes his head. "I forgot. I'm talking to a guy who moved to Alaska just because he got the opportunity to drive a cool car here."

"It wasn't just a 'cool car'. It was an LT4 Camaro. Just over a hundred of those were made."

Rodney rolls his eyes. "Right, sorry. Obviously that changes everything."

John gives him a look. "And I didn't _move_ here. I just took the Camaro to its owner's new place and...didn't leave again, so far."

"So far," Rodney says. He looks thoughtful.

"It's not like I want to stay in Alaska forever. I just haven't...well, started looking at options. I like it here for the moment," John admits. Though he has a feeling that might change once Rodney is gone. Which is a slightly ridiculous thought.

John knew what he signed up for from the moment he took Rodney home that first day. This was never anything other than a temporary...thing. They're both at a point in their life where they left behind what came before and don't quite yet know what comes after. In a way they're like a blow job in a restroom rest stop at a crossroads.

Granted, it's been a pretty long stay at the rest stop, but it doesn't change the fact that each of them will move on to their respective paths once they figure out what that will be.

~~

John's had to deal with enough bad things in his life that he knows better than to make things worse for himself. He knows that he'll miss Rodney, but since he'll still be here for a month, the best option is clearly to make the most of that time.

They make a trip to Anchorage and stay overnight. John's Christmas gift to Rodney reduces the expected bitching about the cold quite a bit. They walk around town until one am, before heading back to the hotel, where it's four hours until they get tired. The time is well-spent, though, having sex and discussing which superheroes would be best equipped to deal with the cold.

The days are rapidly getting longer again. John feels a bit less weird having lunch at five thirty when it's at least not completely dark outside yet.

Rodney doesn't seem to care much either way as long as it's still freezing outside. He hasn't talked about his offers again, but John's seen him work on some spreadsheets, which he fears are Rodney's way to tabulate the pros and cons, probably with a sophisticated algorithm to calculate the best choice.

John's the first to admit that maybe sometimes his life would have gone better if he'd thought things through a bit more, but Rodney's rigorous silencing of anything resembling instinct in this matter makes John a bit sad.

One day after lunch, when he's flying his plane around the living room—much to Rodney's annoyance—John tells him, "You should just go with your gut."

Rodney looks up from his laptop. "What? Do you want me to throw a coin or cast a die?"

"Noooo," John says, letting the plane land neatly on the table. "That would be random. I said, go with your _gut_. Your _instinct_. Your brain has all the information that you could put in there"—he points at the laptop—"so let it work its magic."

Rodney opens his mouth. "That is...pretty clever actually. You're appealing to my intellectual superiority. However, you know as well that going with your 'gut' as you put it so eloquently means exactly the opposite. My brain _does_ contain all the information, but you think I should let an emotional component enter the decision making process."

"Well, doesn't it make sense?" John asks, sitting down next to Rodney. "You're deciding where to _work_ in the future, but you'll also be living there, which will include a certain amount of non-work life. And don't tell me you can switch off any and all emotion during work. I bet the type of coffee machine at your lab would make a huge difference to how happily you start off your day."

"Which is entirely rational and in my spreadsheet," Rodney counters.

"Tell me it isn't," John says. He still has hope that Rodney's life will not be ruled by columns and rows.

Rodney glares at him. "I'm trying to enter all relevant parameters."

John sighs. He takes Rodney's hands and tells him, "Close your eyes."

"Is this some kind of foreplay?" Rodney asks, even as he closes his eyes. "Because I need to head to work early today, get some administrative things done at the personnel office."

"Picture yourself at the first job," John orders.

Rodney makes a face, but then seemingly complies. "Okay, fine. I'm there."

"Picture yourself getting home after a long day at work," John continues. He gives Rodney a moment until he nods. "Now the same with the second job."

Rodney sighs but complies. "Let me guess. Now the third?" he asks eventually.

"You really are the smartest man in the world," John says.

Rodney quickly opens his eyes to give him a look, before closing them again. There is something different in his face this time.

John can't quite put a finger on what it is, but it's enough to make him say, "Take the third job."

Rodney opens his eyes. "That's not—" He pulls his hands away from John's and looks away. "My imagination isn't necessarily trustworthy in this case," he says stiffly, getting up. "Too many unknown variables," he adds, giving John a quick glance. "I'll probably stay at work, so I'll see you tomorrow morning."

John watches him put on his orange fleece jacket, gloves and a cap. "Have fun," he tells Rodney.

"You too," Rodney says as he leaves.

~~

It's only one week before Rodney's project at the lab is over, when John finally asks about his offers again. "Still haven't made a decision?"

"As a matter of fact, I have," Rodney says.

"Oh? Which one is it?" John asks. "Is it the third? From our little exercise?"

"It is the one with the most generous overall package, both in terms of the project and compensation," Rodney says, lifting his chin.

John gives him a look.

Rodney rolls his eyes. "Yes, it's the beach house. Which had _nothing_ to do with my decision," Rodney insists, but he looks elsewhere, so John thinks maybe it has a _little_ to do with it.

He's incredibly pleased with Rodney's decision. He doesn't even know why. It's not as if it impacts him in any way where Rodney goes from here, but he'll gladly imagine Rodney having that beautiful view of the waves, even if he might not consciously appreciate it.

John can't help grinning, until Rodney tells him, "Oh, stop it."

"So was this the third one?" John asks, curious.

"Why does it matter?" Rodney asks.

"I don't know. There was something on your face," John says, cupping Rodney's cheek.

Rodney swallows, then he nods imperceptibly.

This makes John even more pleased. He pulls Rodney's face close into a kiss.

~~

Rodney is terrible at packing, and John's not sure how he managed to ever move anywhere. They've talked to the owner of Rodney's house, and John can take over Rodney's contract and live there until he knows what he wants to do with his future.

John doesn't give it any thought yet, because with Rodney still there, he's quite content where he is. Of course, the day of Rodney's departure has to come sooner rather than later.

They pack all of Rodney's things into John's car—Rodney sold his two days before—and drive to the airport. They're quiet on the way. There's not really much to tell. Rodney will soon be immersed in his new job and new life, probably forgetting all about Alaska as soon as possible.

Though John hopes Rodney will have a fond memory of John every now and then. He knows _he_ will remember the time they spent together fondly. The very nature of this transitional phase means that much of the pressure that John felt all his life wasn't there anymore, but being with Rodney certainly sweetened the deal into real contentment.

When the moment comes to say their final goodbyes, Rodney has a hard time looking at John. If there ever was doubt about Rodney being sorry to leave John behind, it's gone now that John can see his clenched jaw and stiff posture.

"Have a great life," John says with a smile. He wants Rodney to be happy. He wants that in ways that he's not sure he's ever wanted it for another person. But then Rodney is so unlike other people.

"Yes, you too," Rodney says, nodding.

It's so formal and unnatural, that John can't help himself. He pulls Rodney into a hug.

Rodney's stiff in his arms, but John just squeezes him harder, half to tease Rodney, half to be close to him one last time.

Eventually Rodney breaks down and hugs back, and somehow John stops feeling like teasing Rodney. He's tried to concentrate on the great time they had together and not think about it as a loss, but suddenly he cannot stop thinking about the fact that when he comes home from work tomorrow, Rodney won't be there and won't come. Ever again.

He feels a pain in his chest as if something had been cut out, and suddenly he's kissing Rodney, deep, wet kisses, that are inappropriate for a simple goodbye in public in an Alaskan airport, but still feel so right and like the only adequate way to let this man disappear from his life.

Rodney's plane is called again, and he pulls away hard and looks at John one last time. He doesn't say anything, but John can see the same pain that he feels mirrored in those eyes. Then Rodney turns around and leaves without another look back.

John turns too, vaguely aware of people staring at him, but he doesn't give a damn about what any of these people think. He's only here temporarily.

~~

That same night at the station, John feels for the first time that he's not in the right place.

He's never intended to stay in Alaska forever, but suddenly the need to leave is first and foremost on his mind. Even George and Sarah, whom he's always enjoyed chatting with, only seem to make him feel homesick for a home that he doesn't have.

He actively starts to think about his options. He could join the police, FBI, or other law enforcement. He could put his Aeronautical Engineering degree to use, but unlike Rodney he's never wanted to work in a lab. He could work as a pilot, though commercial airlines are not really what he'd want to do and getting a job as a test pilot somewhere to fly high end aircraft as they are developed would be difficult to say the least. Not to mention that his crash might make those who take care of the money nervous, no matter how much experience John has and how good his overall flying record is.

He could also work for his father's company, but compared to his other options, it's not something he _wants_ to do.

He mulls over the pros and cons, going so far as to scribble down things in a simple table, imagining how Rodney would point out his hypocrisy. John wishes his gut would tell him anything, but the only message that he can decipher is that it doesn't want to stay in Alaska any longer.

The songs he plays seem to have a theme of loss and leaving, though he consciously selects more cheerful things to balance that. There's something else, though, that he's not even aware of, but that is pointed out to him one day, when suddenly at roughly three thirty, someone calls to say, "If you play anymore Beach Boys, Johnny Cash is going to return from the dead to haunt you."

"Rodney?" John asks, his heart starting to beat faster.

"Yes," Rodney says, yawning.

"Why are you even up?" John asks, until he realizes, "Oh wait, it's seven thirty for you."

"Yes, it is, though my sleeping patterns are still all over the place."

"So you listen to the radio? How can you even listen from Florida? You _are_ there, right?" John asks, his chest tightening with the idea that maybe Rodney changed his mind and returned.

"Yes," Rodney dashes his hopes. "And no, I can't listen, but your station website keeps up a playlist. This house really must have made an impression to you."

"I didn't—" John begins. He wants to say that he hasn't even thought about that house when selecting songs, but now that he thinks about it, he remembers playing David Lee Roth's California Girls, Surf City, and yes, a few Beach Boys songs since Rodney left. So instead he asks, "How is it?"

"The house?" Rodney asks.

"Wasn't that what we were talking about?" John asks back.

"Well, _some_ people might be more interested in how I'm doing with my new project," Rodney says sourly.

"How's the weather? Any good for surfing?" John asks, ignoring the dig.

"And I'd care why? It's a lot warmer than Alaska, which is good enough for me. But, yes, I think there _are_ people out there surfing. I might have seen some on my way to work."

"Are you telling me you're living at the beach and haven't even taken a walk out there?" John asks, unfortunately all too able to imagine just that.

"I've been busy with the new project, which—thanks for asking—is going very well and will be groundbreaking," Rodney says.

"Well, that goes without saying if you're at the helm," John says. "See? There was no good reason for me to ask at all. One second. I have to segue to the next song." He plays I Just Called To Say I Love You, but doesn't tell Rodney about it. "Okay, I'm back. So you're all settled in? Got everything unpacked?"

"I unpack as I need it," Rodney says.

"Oh, you're one of those kind of people," John says.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rodney asks.

"You know. The people where you visit and ask, 'Oh, you've just moved in?' and they tell you it's been two years. _Those_ people," John says.

"It has been hardly over a _week_. And nobody's visiting, so no, that scenario hasn't happened and won't. If it makes you happy I'll make a point of unpacking this weekend. Jesus," Rodney says.

"Please do," John says, just to annoy Rodney.

Rodney harrumphs. "I'm off to work," he says curtly. "And lay off the Beach Boys." Then he hangs up.

John is in better spirits for the rest of his shift and at home falls asleep, wondering if Rodney will call the next day.

~~

After breakfast, John drives into Fairbanks to go to an internet cafe. The KBRT website seems to update the playlist more or less in realtime, so he guesses the information comes directly from the computer. He knows Rodney would roll his eyes at him if he were here now.

John decides to do a search for Sarasota and stumbles upon what appears to be a new Google feature. He can actually check out real images of not just Sarasota, but the whole world. For now though he checks Rodney's new address. Rodney left it behind in case anyone sends mail unexpectedly or the lab has forgotten something.

Rodney's house is on an endless stretch of beach, and John can't help the small whimper as he imagines Rodney sitting at home shades drawn staring at his laptop or some documents without ever setting foot outside.

He makes notes of some points of interest to ask Rodney about and then goes shopping, wondering how long he'll even still be here. Of course, he's still not making any breakthroughs in the decision department, so realistically it could be a while.

Instead of staring at his pros and cons list, he spends the evening playing Metroid: Zero Mission on his old Game Boy Advance.

When he goes to work, he feels an excitement that has missed the last week. He wonders when Rodney gets up every morning and if he'll have time to chat a bit today.

If he calls at all.

There's not necessarily a reason to expect it. They've never done that "let's keep in touch" spiel, because their relationship, if you wanted to call it that, was more honest than that. But on the other hand, now that Rodney _has_ called, John wants to believe that if this was the last time he ever heard of Rodney, Rodney would have chosen something else than warning him about his overuse of the Beach Boys on his show.

Of course, he could randomly call once a week or month. Though John hasn't planned on being here for so long.

By three am, Rodney still hasn't called. John can't really tell if Rodney is the kind of person who gets up early when not doing the night shift. For anyone who's been in the military, seven am is definitely not early, but for someone who needs two cups of coffee to really wake up it might be a different thing.

He plays Call Me again, this time Nancy Wilson's version. There's a call almost immediately, but it's not Rodney. John tries to keep it short, feeling bad after playing that song. It's not as if his listeners know that he doesn't mean _them_.

Thankfully there aren't too many people awake at this time, so Rodney gets through as the third caller.

"You know, I think this strategy might be counter-productive," he says by way of greeting.

John smiles. "I take your point. Wasn't sure if you'd call at all."

"I've got nothing to do while the coffee is brewing," Rodney says.

"You haven't even had coffee?" John asks.

"No, I haven't. What? You think I'm unable to pick up the phone without being caffeinated?" Rodney asks crankily, kind of proving John's point.

John lets it go, though. "So is this the time you usually get up?"

"It is for now. We have a lot of meetings at the moment, where everyone would like to tell me what they expect of me until I tell them what it is that they really want."

"I'm sure they love that," John says, smirking.

"Well, they're surprisingly open-minded. Of course, with the kind of money they pay me, I would assume they have a certain amount of faith in what I do," Rodney says.

"That doesn't have to mean they'll give you free reign. People can hire the best and still manage them to death," John says.

"Is that what you're afraid of?" Rodney asks.

"It might be if I could decide in which direction to go," John says.

"Have you even started thinking about it?" Rodney asks.

"Yes, I have," John says immediately. "I have narrowed it down to a few fields."

"'Fields'? As in what? Flying, law enforcement, and physical training?" Rodney asks.

John frowns. "Well, not the last. What makes you think I'd want to work as a personal trainer?"

"You're fit and people like you, and as an ex-Air Force officer I can only assume you don't mind telling people what to do," Rodney answers.

"If you put it like that, maybe. But I'd prefer something that I can see myself doing twenty years from now," John says. That's the whole point of making a decision. If he just wanted another job, he'd find it.

"Ah, a vocation," Rodney says.

"Something like that," John says, sighing. The Air Force had been exactly that for him, and he knows it will be hard for other lines of work to match up.

"I don't suppose the Air Force would take you back," Rodney says, as if John had spoken out loud.

"No," John says quietly after a moment.

"Sometimes we have to make compromises in life," Rodney says, and there's a wistful note in it, as if Rodney speaks from experience.

John's about to ask him when he notices the song's almost ended. "Give me a sec," he tells Rodney, before putting on Somebody to Love. "Okay. When did you ever have to compromise?" he asks. "I thought all your decisions were spreadsheet-approved."

Rodney is quiet long enough that John wonders if he's hung up. Eventually, Rodney asks, "Should I read anything in particular into the fact that you play love songs whenever I call?"

John flushes. "Uh, no? It's not that you can even hear them."

"I can see it popping up on the list," Rodney says.

"What would you like me to play?" John asks.

Rodney is quiet for a long time again. "Nothing," he finally says. "As you said, it's not as if I can hear it. And my breakfast is waiting, so I should...bye."

"Rodney?" John asks, but he's already hung up. That was...strange. John's not sure what he said, but he feels as if he missed something—and as if he should apologize.

He'll ask Rodney tomorrow. Rodney's called two days in a row, thus re-establishing their pattern. At least John hopes so.

~~

John is incredibly relieved when Rodney calls the next day.

"No overt songs to me today, except a couple of love songs. I'm feeling neglected," Rodney says by way of greeting.

"Hey!" John says, exhaling. "And, no, no special songs. Listen, I'm sorry." John wants to get it out of the way, because it's been nagging on him the whole day.

"For what?" Rodney asks.

"Uhm. I don't know. Whatever it was I said yesterday."

"You apologize for something that you don't know you did?" Rodney asks.

"What _did_ I do?" John asks, feeling slight trepidation. Rodney and he have always been on the same wavelength. Sure, they had their spirited arguments about all kinds of things, but that had never been awkward.

"You did nothing, John," Rodney says. "I just...you were right. I shouldn't start doing anything before I had my first coffee."

"Did you have it today?" John asks, smiling.

"Yes," Rodney says emphatically.

John laughs. "So we're good?" he asks.

"As always," Rodney says, though it still sounds a bit off.

"Are you sleeping better now?" John asks.

"So-so. I keep reading through the night, which doesn't help. But yeah, a bit better. No need to mother me," Rodney says.

"Just asking how you're doing. Besides work, which I'm sure is exciting," John says.

"It is. Nothing new for you on that front, I suppose," Rodney says.

John sighs. "My gut's not telling me anything, except that I want to leave."

"Well, then listen to it!"

"For that I'd need to know where to go, which is exactly the problem here," John points out.

"Why?" Rodney asks.

"What do you mean why? You want me to call the airline and say, 'give me a ticket to anywhere that's not here'?" John says

"You could narrow it down to the lower forty-eight states," Rodney suggests.

"Okay, so let's say she'll give me a ticket to Wichita. What do I do in Kansas then?" John asks.

"Why Wichita? Do you know how many stops that would be?" Rodney asks.

"Then take Seattle. What do I do _there_?" John asks.

"You start looking and in the meantime, at least you won't be freezing your ass off," Rodney says.

"Oh, if that's the criterion, I'd rather choose something warmer," John says.

"It's going to be twenty-five degrees out here today," Rodney says smugly. "Celsius, obviously."

"I wish it were that here in Fahrenheit," John says, shuddering just thinking about what awaits him outside.

"That's what I mean," Rodney says. "If you can't make a decision, fine, but you might as well do it in better a climate."

"Florida, huh?" John says thoughtfully. It's either that or California, if he were to choose simply based on where he'd want to be right now, climate-wise.

"I didn't say Florida, but that's certainly an option." Rodney says. After a moment, he adds, "For what it's worth, this house is way too big for a single person and doesn't cost me anything, so if you'd want a free place to stay while you're thinking..."

Wow, that's...really tempting. Almost too tempting. "Thank you, Rodney, but I'm not sure—"

"You don't have to if you don't want to, obviously," Rodney hastily adds.

"No, I want to. Boy, do I want to, but if you're offering me to stay for free for an unlimited time, I'll never get off my ass and actually make a decision," John says.

"Frankly, it's not my problem that you can't summon the willpower to make a decision. The offer stands," Rodney says.

John bites his lips. There's really no aspect of this offer that's in any way bad. In fact, it's almost too good to be true. But somehow, that's how everything related to Rodney has been so far, so John's willing to take it at face value. "Maybe if I do it as a vacation. Just a week or two, three at the most."

Rodney snorts. "Whatever you want to call it," he says, and John can just _see_ his grin.

~~

It's only been three weeks since he last saw Rodney, but somehow it feels longer. Even if they talk on the phone every night. Well, _talked_ , because John's left behind his radio host gig and is on the way to Sarasota where Rodney will pick him up.

He's really looking forward to the beach house, though he reminds himself that it's only a vacation. He'll visit a friend, and then he really, _really_ needs to start looking for a job that he intends to keep for more than a few months.

He wonders how Rodney will look dressed for warmer temperatures. Somehow he can't picture him in cargo shorts and Hawaiian shirts. Trying keeps him awake, though, after a grueling sixteen hours with stops in Anchorage, Portland, Seattle, and Milwaukee.

At least all his flights are on time, and his luggage isn't lost either. He's scanning the crowd when he finally gets out of the security area, but Rodney sees him first.

"You look like hell," he says, and John turns to find Rodney smiling at him. He's wearing a business suit actually, which is a bit weird, but doesn't look bad. John must have checked him out too obviously because Rodney says, "I just came from work. Let's get home, and I can get into something more casual." He turns around and starts walking.

"You could offer to help me carry a bag or two," John calls after him.

Rodney turns around. "I suppose I can," he says. "Aren't you military types supposed to be too proud to ask?"

"Not if we've been awake for twenty-six hours and have our whole household with us," John says, handing Rodney a large suitcase.

"You know, considering that, it's not much at all. What have you done with your things?" Rodney asks.

John is momentarily confused, until he remembers that Rodney didn't actually listen to his show even if he called. "I've been auctioning things off the last week."

Rodney gives him a doubtful look.

"As a joke, really. But people were more generous than I thought, so I donated it all to the university library," John says.

"Have you even been there?" Rodney asks.

"Look, it's not like there are thousands of charities to choose from. If I could have found a group fighting housing discrimination against gays in Fairbanks I would have donated to _them_ ," John answers, a touch impatiently.

"Sorry. I was just asking," Rodney says. "Let's get you into a bed." Then he flushes. "I mean to sleep." His flush intensifies. "I mean to sleep in the bed, because you're tired."

John grins, following Rodney to the parking lot. He hasn't been entirely sure if they'd start up again where they left off in that regard, but sex certainly seems to come to Rodney's mind when he thinks of John and a bed, which sounds promising.

John manages not to nod off on the twenty-minute drive, even though Rodney's complaints about the traffic almost lull him to sleep.

It's a testament to the state of John's exhaustion that he doesn't take more than a cursory glance at the beach, before asking Rodney. "So I could find the bathroom and bed...?"

"There's one bathroom downstairs. The other along with the bedrooms is upstairs."

John nods, and Rodney walks up the stairs rather quickly.

"Bathroom is there, my bedroom is here. There is a guest room over there, if...uh..." he trails off, dropping gaze.

John simply steps up to him and gives him a deep kiss, before pulling back and telling him, "I'm just gonna head into to the bathroom and then crash, okay?"

"That would be...perfectly fine," Rodney says, licking his wet lips.

John gives him another quick kiss.

~~

John wakes up when Rodney slips into bed next to him. "Wha' time is it?" he asks.

"Midnight," Rodney whispers. "If you can sleep another six hours, you'll be up at an almost normal time."

"Uhum," John mumbles, snuggling into Rodney and falling asleep again.

When he wakes up the next time it's still dark outside, which hasn't happened in Alaska even in December when there's only five hours of daylight. He checks the watch on Rodney's nightstand. It's five am. The time he usually got home from work. Well, in that timezone. It's one am there now, so his shift would have begun just two hours ago.

For a brief moment, he wonders who's doing the show now and if they ever play Johnny Cash. Then he shakes his head and reminds himself that he _chose_ to leave that behind. And this is certainly better.

Rodney's asleep next to him. John watches him, wondering when Rodney will wake up so that they can properly say hello to each other. It'll probably be another hour at least, so John slips out of bed, takes a shower, and gets dressed to take a walk on the beach.

It's really peaceful and the smell and endlessness of the sea is calming in a different way than the snow of Alaska was. He doesn't go too far and heads back to Rodney's house while it's still dark.

Rodney's still asleep when he arrives back through the balcony door. The whole house is modern and has a huge glass front toward the balcony, beyond which the beach lies. The interior isn't any less luxurious, and John isn't surprised to find a monster of a coffee machine in the kitchen.

At twenty past six, he can't wait any longer and makes some coffee, carrying it upstairs in hopes of enticing Rodney awake. It works beautifully.

"Coffee," Rodney whispers before opening his eyes. "John," he adds when he sees John.

"I see you've got your priorities straight," John says, teasing.

Rodney gratefully takes the cup from him and drinks almost all in one go. "Ah," he says when he's done. "I could get used to this." Then he adds hastily, "Not that...you know."

"It's okay," John says, nodding.

Rodney relaxes again and smiles. "Hey, what time is it?"

"Almost six thirty," John answers.

"Oh, that's—" Rodney stops himself and pushes the covers aside, getting out of bed.

John frowns. He's hoped the morning activities would take place in bed. At least some of them. But when Rodney takes him by the hand, he willingly follows. Rodney leads him down the stairs out onto the balcony, where it's not quite as dark anymore. "Let me get another coffee," Rodney says and leaves John staring at the ocean.

The faint pink of the sky and the shadows of the clouds make for a beautiful panorama. John is both surprised and pleased that Rodney has taken a moment to enjoy that at least once.

Rodney comes back, nursing his second cup of coffee. "Maybe the house was a factor," he says.

John snorts, looking over to him.

"A small one," Rodney says.

John steps closer to him until he's close enough to kiss. There aren't many people out and about yet, but there are quite a few hotels around, and they can be easily seen on the balcony.

Rodney closes the distance without even checking for potential observers so it must not matter to him. They kiss languidly, though Rodney pulls away eventually to take another sip of his coffee. "It's getting cold," he explains.

John laughs. "Right. Priorities."

"I'll have to go into work, but I'll see if I can come home for dinner," Rodney says regretfully.

"No problem. You don't need to change your plans on my account. I can feed myself. Though it might be helpful if you gave me a set of keys. I'd love to check out the beach and leaving the balcony door open might not be such a good idea."

Rodney goes to find his second set of keys, which takes long enough for the sun to be up. "Breakfast?" Rodney offers.

"Sure," John says. In the kitchen he asks, "So you'll have to leave _soon_ , right?"

"Too soon for a quickie if that's what you're asking," Rodney says, smirking.

John just shrugs and smiles innocently at him.

"Tonight," Rodney promises and kisses him again.

~~

Staying with Rodney is like living in a Beach Boys video—if they came in pornographic varieties. Rodney won't have sex outside, but he's eager as ever in bed and won't say no to being bent over the kitchen counter if he's riled up enough, as John finds out his second week there.

It's weeks of beach, sex, and beer, which is pretty much a perfect vacation for John.

The vacation part, however, is what makes him turn a bit anxious in the third week. Rodney hasn't asked about John's plans for the future, and John knows he won't.

For Rodney, John's presence is entirely in the plus column, John imagines. There is a cleaning person coming four times a week, and in-between John is probably tidier than Rodney. They split costs when they buy groceries or go out to eat, so the only reason John could see for Rodney wanting him gone, is if he wanted to start dating.

Right now, he's still spending a lot of time getting his project started, returning home late and bringing work with him many days. In that context, being able to just pull John into bed for a blow job must be the most convenient way to have sex for Rodney.

And honestly, John thinks Rodney's quite content with the way things are. He's not naive enough to think that it can't change if Rodney maybe met someone, but his most pressing concern is still that he should find an actual job.

He's walking along the beach, willing his gut to give him some kind of hint, when he hears a helicopter flying over him. John decides to give the company a call, even though it's a long shot, but for some reason they actually invite him to come in for an interview.

Two days later, they're having dinner on the balcony and John tells Rodney, "I got a job."

Rodney stops chewing for a second, then swallows. "Where?" he asks.

"Shouldn't _what_ be the question?" John can't help asking. After all, Rodney's been the one to complain that he wasn't focused on what was important.

"Okay, _what_?" Rodney asks.

"Flying helicopter tours. And I'll be learning to teach lessons in the future," John says.

Rodney looks at him for a long moment. "You said you _have_ the job," he says.

"Yes," John says. "I called them; they interviewed me; I got the job."

"It's in Sarasota," Rodney says tonelessly.

"Yes," John says, hesitating now. He'd thought Rodney would...well, be more happy than this. "Is that a problem?"

"No," Rodney says, "Of course not."

"I'll move out, of course," John says. He only wanted to stay for vacation and he intends to keep that promise to himself.

"You don't have to," Rodney says.

"I know, but—"

"Yes, yes, forget it!" Rodney says, almost shouting. The silence that follows is almost deafening. "I'm sorry," Rodney says. "Things with the project..."

"Problems?" John asks, suddenly worried. Rodney has always sounded enthusiastic about it.

"Well, nothing I can't solve," Rodney says, giving him a weak smile.

"I'm sure," John says. "I don't...I'd love to stay, and I know you don't pay any rent, but if you meet someone and—"

"John," Rodney says.

"I know, I know, but it could turn awkward," John says.

"Are you planning on still visiting me every now and then, or will this be goodbye?" Rodney asks.

"Well, since we're living in the same town and I don't really know anyone else yet...yeah, I'd have hoped that we could still see each other," John says. "In whatever way works for you," he adds, frowning because he's not entirely sure where Rodney is going with this.

"Sex?" Rodney asks.

"Sure," John says.

"Then how do you think that would be any less awkward then asking you to find your own place if that magical someone"—Rodney rolls his eyes as if he were talking about leprechauns—"appears."

"Well, I'd probably need a headstart to move out," John says.

"Then I'll just have to rent a hotel room if that magical someone needs me to fuck them within twenty-four hours of meeting me," Rodney says sarcastically.

"Okay. I get your point," John says. "I was just trying to be, you know, polite."

"I appreciate it, but it's not necessary."

"I'll want to buy a few things," John says.

"Please do. I'll just draw the line at overtly pornographic decorations. I've been told I'll have to invite my team for a barbecue at some point," Rodney says.

"You don't have a grill," John points out.

"It's been my best excuse so far," Rodney says.

John snorts. "I can buy that instead of the three-feet phalluses for the living room."

Rodney shudders. "Who would buy that? Talk about giving a guy a complex."

"Good point. Tiny penises would be better," John says.

But Rodney makes a face. "Please don't talk about tiny penises in"—he looks at his lap—"his presence."

John laughs out loud. The corner of Rodney's mouth move down, which only makes John laugh more.

~~

Work is interesting. The tours aren't John's favorite part, but they're okay. He's looking forward to teaching, though.

The people at work are quite welcoming to him. They have a healthy respect for the kinds of aircraft he's flown in his career and the conditions in which he's done it. When someone asks him why he left the Air Force, he simply says he needed a change, which seems good enough for them.

At home— _their_ home now—John makes a few changes that mark the house as the place that he's living in.

Rodney vetoes Johnny Cash in the bedroom, so he moves into the downstairs gym, which Rodney hardly ever steps into. John also has some of his things sent from storage and buys a car. Once they have a grill, Rodney gives in to the inevitable and invites his team over.

Just like the Christmas party, Rodney simply introduces him as "John Sheppard." John has been wondering if the cleaning person reports back what she sees, but at least Rodney's team seem to be surprised that he's living with someone. Or that it's a guy.

There are some hushed whispers that stop when John brings the salad, but everyone just smiles politely at him.

Soon, though, the beach, the house, and the grill are much more interesting. Things are relaxed, people have fun, and the food is great. The sunset causes oohs and aahs all over, and Rodney sits down next to John on the bench that they bought for the occasion and leans his head against John's shoulder.

John smiles at him.

"This is beautiful," one of the younger members of Rodney's team says, turning back to them. When she sees them, she blushes and turns back again.

Rodney gives John a quick kiss and gets up, walking into the kitchen and coming back with more beer a moment later. John takes a bottle and stands behind Rodney, nuzzling his neck for a moment before opening the bottle and drinking from it.

As the evening turns into night, Rodney's team starts to talk about the project more. They get into details that don't mean anything to John, and when he feels the first yawn threatening to break free, he gets up and says, "I'll leave you guys to it. It was great meeting you." He nods and smiles all around.

Rodney looks up at him long enough for John to decide to lean down and give him a quick kiss. When he turns to go, he catches one guy who's averted his gaze, but John tries not to read too much into it. He trusts that the members of Rodney's team are smart enough not to act homophobic in their boss' house after having found out he's in a relationship with a guy.

Not that they're having a relationship. John goes into the bathroom to get ready for bed. Although, of course, they _do_ have a relationship. They live, sleep, and eat together. They are friends, who also have great sex. They're not sleeping with other people, as far as John knows, and he's pretty sure Rodney would tell him or be so flustered about it that John would know. So it's a bit hard to quantify what makes this different from a 'normal' relationship.

They haven't made any promises.

That's the difference, but as far as practical matters go, what the people downstairs think of them is pretty much right on the money.

~~

John is semi-out at work. One day he started mentioning Rodney, and if someone asks, he tells them, "I'm living with him." It's true, and he doesn't really care what people read into it. If they know that Rodney's an important part of his life, that's enough for him. It's not as if he's talking all that much about his private life anyway.

He really enjoys teaching for the most part. It's wonderful to witness people taking the stick for the first time and the exhilaration that comes with it. A few have neither talent nor motivation for it, and John's not sure what made them pay to get a license. But overall his experiences are positive and rewarding.

The tours are something that he does when there aren't enough students or when nobody else can do it. People seem to like him, though. Rodney teases him that nobody can resist his natural charm. Though to John, it's not natural at all, but rather artificial. It actually bothers him a little that faking it comes so easily to him. It makes him think of the parties his father used to throw—and probably still throws.

John hasn't contacted his father yet. He wants to give himself some time to get settled in, though sometimes he acknowledges to himself that it's an excuse. He's sent a card for his brother's birthday though, and Dave wrote back, letting him know that he and Charlie are expecting their second daughter.

John wants to be there when she's baptized and told his brother so, which gives him at least half a year to prepare to face his father.

The teaching is a good job, but John knows that it will disappoint his father and unfortunately John can relate to that, because this isn't how he envisioned his life. He's made a decision, but it feels hardly different from staying in Fairbanks, even if Johnny Cash never made an appearance on the wall.

Mostly, though, he doesn't think about it. Because his life is good. He's happy, he's as open about his sexual orientation as he ever wanted to be, and he can come home to someone who makes him laugh and think, and who's a genius in bed and elsewhere.

He doesn't think about his relationship with Rodney very often. Sometimes women—and men, in a few cases—make a pass at him, but he always tells them he's not interested.

One college girl stays behind after he's flown her and her friends on a tour. "Oh, you have a girlfriend," she says disappointed.

"No," John corrects her truthfully.

"Then why?" she asks, wide-eyed.

There are many reasons. She wouldn't be his type even if he were still sleeping with women, and she's young enough to be his daughter, which is a turn-off for him, unlike some other guys. But he doesn't want to upset her, because she's a customer and all things told she was pretty nice to him. He goes with, "There is someone," which is the truth, because even if she were older and he slept with women and she didn't seem quite as shallow, he still wouldn't sleep with her because of Rodney.

"But you just said you didn't have a girlfriend," she says, frowning. John gives her a moment, and she finally says, "Oh. You're _married_."

"No," John corrects again.

She frowns, looking at him as if he were playing a prank on her. "Fiancée?" she asks.

John shakes his head.

"Do I get a hint?" she asks. "Oh wait. You're divorced and have kids! That's okay, we can go to my hotel room."

John doesn't even know what to think of that. "His name is Rodney," he says.

She looks at him, and he can practically see things clicking into place in her brain. "Oh," she says, stretching the syllable. She smiles awkwardly. "Tough luck."

"Yep," John says. "Sorry."

"Well, he's a lucky guy," she says, smiling more genuinely now. Then she's off, following her friends.

When he recounts this to Rodney, later when they're lying in bed, Rodney asks, "How often does this happen to you?"

"Not very often," John says.

"I'm not sure I should ask how often you _don't_ turn them down, so I won't," Rodney says, turning to switch off the light.

"I turn all of them down," John says, his eyes adjusting to the dark.

"That's, uh, good to hear," Rodney says. "I would too if the opportunity came up."

John snorts. "I'm sure there are people admiring you from afar, heartbroken that you appear to be taken."

Rodney is silent for a long moment. He's not smiling at John's joke. John pokes him in the shoulder. Rodney turns to him. John can't read the look on his face, and it has nothing to do with the dark. "Goodnight," Rodney eventually says.

"Rodney?" John asks.

"What?" Rodney asks.

John's pretty sure that Rodney had something to say right now, but if he's decided he's not talking about it, asking again won't change his mind. "Nothing," John says. "Goodnight."

~~

Summer is over before John knows it.

There's a flying festival in September, where anyone can come in and take a look at the helicopters and can participate in a tour or fifteen minute "flying lessons" at a reduced rate. The whole company has been preparing for it for weeks, and John finds himself excited as well.

He's especially happy when Rodney tells him he'll come. John has invited him for a private tour before, but Rodney has always cited being busy. He drops by late that afternoon, and John shows him around and introduces him to people.

"You've talked about me?" Rodney asks, surprised that people seem to know about him.

"Sure," John says.

After a bit of prodding, John can even persuade Rodney to join him on a short flight. He sits stiffly next to John the whole time, gripping the seat.

"Don't worry. I won't let anything happen to you," John says, putting his hand on Rodney's thigh for a moment.

"It's not you I worry about," Rodney says. "It's the five hundred feet between us and the ground."

John snorts. "Try not to think about what's below us. Look out at what's in front of us."

Rodney does, but John can see that this is not his idea of fun. He returns to solid ground soon. Rodney sighs in relief when they touch down. "Sorry," he says, turning to John.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm glad you let me take you up at all," John says, only now realizing how generous that was of Rodney. He leans over to give him a quick kiss.

~~

In early November, John flies a tour with a family from Fairbanks. He tells them that he lived there for a few months and it occurs to him that it's been about a year since he first met Rodney face to face.

He never marked the date, but he remembers that it had been getting colder by then and Rodney's orange fleece jacket, so early November sounds about right.

When he goes home that night he decides to make something special for them. They don't really have an anniversary, but there's no reason not to celebrate every now and then. Rodney's planning on letting him fly one of the experimental fighter jets for his birthday. John's not supposed to know about it, but Charlotte, one of Rodney's team members, told John the last time they had a barbecue.

If Rodney can do that for him, John can prepare a nice candle-lit dinner for him. It's not often that they have the opportunity to use the Star Wars candleholders. (They couldn't resist when they saw them on a trip to Tampa.)

Since Rodney's working late, John has time to decorate the whole table with a science fiction theme. He gets out the rocket cups, builds a pyramid with a hexagon base with their set of magnetic balls, sets down the flying Enterprise model that Rodney built for him, and tries to arrange the food in geometric forms.

If he'd had more time, he could have made some cupcakes and decorated them as the Flying Spaghetti Monster or with messages, or maybe a Tardis cake. But as a random act of geek display for their not-really-anniversary, Rodney isn't going to complain.

When Rodney comes in, John looks at him, smiling expectantly.

Rodney walks around John and the table to put down his laptop bag, then he stares at the table. Eventually, he turns to John. "Okay, I give up. What's the occasion?"

"Nothing really," John says. "But it's been about a year since we first met—in person—so I thought..." He waits for Rodney to smile and maybe make a joke.

But Rodney stares at him, then the table, then back at him, before dropping his gaze.

John doesn't know why this should be a problem, but he's ready to apologize if it is, when Rodney suddenly speaks.

"I can't do this anymore," he says, still not looking up.

John wonders why he sounds so desolate when suddenly his brain catches up to the meaning of the words.

Rodney wants to end this.

John takes a deep breath because suddenly, he feels like he's suffocating. This can't be happening. Just this morning they were joking and flirting at breakfast. Everything was fine. _They've_ been fine.

They are...John doesn't finish that thought, because he remembers that they never made any promises, that this wasn't a _relationship_. He doesn't have the right to ask Rodney not to do this to him, no matter how wrong it feels.

"Okay," John manages to say. "I'll go pack my—" and then Rodney is there and puts his hands on John's face, forcing him to look at Rodney.

"I can't keep pretending that this is nothing," Rodney says firmly. "I love you, John. I know it's not something you say and that's okay. You don't need to."

The words rush through John's brain, which grabs the phrase 'I love you' and holds on to it. Rodney doesn't want him to leave. It's a relief so great John almost wants to collapse in Rodney's arms. Then he realizes the other things that Rodney said. That John doesn't say 'I love you.'

"I do," John says, still feeling overwhelmed. "I say it." He has. He's said it to Derek and Paul. He's said it to Nancy. And he's felt about none of them the way he feels about Rodney. Rodney who never betrayed him or disappointed him. Rodney, for whom he feels a passion that he was never able to feel for his wife. Rodney, who's become the one part of his life that he doesn't want to be without. "I say it," John repeats, still shocked by his realization.

"That's...good," Rodney says, moving one hand to John's shoulder. "But I want you to know that it's okay if you can't. I don't need it. What I do need is for us to stop pretending that we're not in a relationship."

John opens his mouth, but doesn't say anything. He hasn't actively pretended that he's _not_ in a relationship. He's never not told anyone something he wanted to tell them just because they might get the idea he and Rodney are involved. But he _has_ deliberately chosen words that left the nature of their relationship open.

"I need to know," Rodney continues, "that when my project is over, I can think about moving without pretending that it doesn't matter at all what _you_ want. I'm not going to leave again, not knowing if you'll follow. I can't go through that again. The next time this comes up, I want us to make that decision _together_."

John thinks about the time in North Pole when Rodney had mulled over his spreadsheets, apparently not knowing where to go. Now it seems that hadn't been the issue at all. "I'm sorry," he says, because he never wanted to cause Rodney pain.

"Don't be. I could have said something. I could have just _asked_ you, but I felt you'd made it clear that this was just a temporary thing, like your radio stint. And I'm still not sure that it wasn't, frankly," Rodney says.

"I...I don't know," John admits. "I didn't think about it. I didn't expect this to be...I was killing time until I knew what to do with my life. Nothing seemed right." He thinks about his job, which is good, but it isn't what he always wanted in life. If Rodney finds something else in a year, John will gladly quit and follow him. He won't even have to think about it. He looks at Rodney in wonder. "I didn't know it would turn out to be you."

Rodney looks at him for along moment before dropping his gaze. "Well, I'm glad we cleared that up," he says, taking a deep breath. He seems a bit choked up. "The food is probably cold by now," he adds, giving John a smile.

"I can warm it up," John offers.

"You don't have to," Rodney says, one corner of his mouth curving up.

John pulls him close. "I don't have to do a lot of things," he says seriously, cupping Rodney's cheek. "But I still do them because I _want_ to. Always."

Rodney looks at him with bright blue eyes that shine with happiness. Then his gaze dips to John's mouth and their lips meet in a kiss. John closes his eyes, enjoying the feeling of kissing Rodney which is as amazing as it has been from that first moment. It's more than a fantastic kiss now, though.

It's the end of his search, it's the future he's been looking for, and John knows that he's finally found what he always wanted without realizing it.

Life couldn't be better.


End file.
